Classic Poem

In the month of Februeer
Poets' songs are sad and drear—
Biting winds, and chilling mists;
Life is seen through amethysts—
Darkly purple Februeer!

In the month of Februeer,
In the yellow and the sere,
Singers see but little worth
On the dark and dreary earth—
Sombre season of the year.

Poor old month of Februeer!
How they love to gibe and jeer—
Those who're eager and alert
For the things that sting and hurt—
Can't deny them, Februeer!

Yet I love thee, Februeer.
I can see the things that cheer—
Little samples of the spring,
Hints of songs the birds will sing
When the April days appear.

In the meadow, on the mere,
Here and there a grassy spear,
Now and then a promise of
Coming flowers full of love—
In these days of Februeer.

Only needs an eye and ear
With the wish to see and hear.
What we seek we ever find—
Sordid things, or blessings kind,
In the month of Februeer!