Classic Poem

O the flicker! He is here—
April's hardy pioneer!
Soul of young hilarity!
He 's the bird, the bird for me!
With his lispings infantile;
Many a quirk and roguish wile;
Whims of wooing in his pate,
Toying, coying, with his mate;
And his chucklings, loud and long,
Richer than the richest song.

Through the sober trees he flies,
Proper birds to scandalize.
See him in his shambling flight
On the serious Oak to light;
Pass the laugh and pass the jest:
“Let 's be jolly, laughter 's cheap!
Oh, the joke 's too good to keep!
Tell it, tell it to the rest!”

Careless conqueror of care!
Nature's motley he doth wear.
When I hear his hearty call
To the feast she spreads for all,
To her revels jovial,
Forth I hie with right good will,
To sup with her and sup my fill,
Join the merry rollicking
And celebrate the feast of Spring.
O the flicker, he is here,
Drunk with new wine of the year.