A Backward Spring - A poem by C. P. Slane

A Backward Spring.

I.
The winter lingers late,
And the sun's afraid to shine,
And the leaves is black as slate
On the young tomato vine.
II.
The ground is all so froze up
That you stomp around with vim,
And you bundle up your nose up
As your eyes is drippin' dim.
III.
The weather's awful gloomy,
And it makes you have the blues,
As the wind it roars so roomy
Up and down the prairie sloughs
IV.
The clouds is close together,
They're lookin' more like snow,
And the wild-geese scent the weather,
As they whirl, and southward go.
V.
The farm work's all a cloggin'
Now, no plantin' can't be done,
And the cattle's all a'huggin'
Up, a huntin' for the sun.
VI.
Way late on in the day,
Old Sol ventures out to shine,
And the clouds is pushed away
By a fluffy silver line.
VII.
The wind has spent its force,
With a sigh of recompense,
And the lark now trills his chorus
On a high post in the fence.
VIII.
The sun is sinkin' down
And a closin' up the day
With a happy haloed frown,
As to-morrow's first o' May.

^__C. P. Slane.

Flashlights and Territorial Reminiscences of Kansas
In Verse
C. P. Slane
(Cincinnati: The Editor Publishing Co. 1900)
Pages 65-66