403

The Winters are so short-
I'm hardly justified
In sending all the Birds away-
And moving into Pod-

Myself-for scarcely settled-
The Phoebes have begun-
And then-it's time to strike my Tent-
And open House-again-

It's mostly, interruptions-
My Summer-is despoiled-
Because there was a Winter-once-
And al the Cattle-starved-

And so there was a Deluge-
And swept the World away-
But Ararat's a Legend-now-
And no one credits Noah-