Classic Poem

Of all the twelve, bright month! art thou the one
Best loved of Nature, that, with partial care,
She bids her subtle elements prepare
This robe of beauty for her favorite son, —
This coat of many colors, deftly spun
From tissues of the rainbow, from the rare,
Brave hues of sunset when the day dies fair,
From misty, purple dawnings, ere begun
Is the swift, beautiful coming of the light?
O princely garniture! Well may the rest
(In dun, or ermine, or soft greenness drest),
Beholding thee thus royally bedight,
Envy thy state, thou favorite of the year,
Darling of Nature, month without a peer!