Spring Bouquet

Especially for my friends in the North Country --the northern US and the north of China-- I send a bouquet of Spring flowers picked from around my doorstep. The season isn't official until next week, but as you can see (and almost smell) Spring has already sprung here! But before the posy a poem. Ogden Nash has one about the start of Spring done in rambunctious rhyme which is best read at a run. I have several Nash favorites, like:
The Lama
The one L lama, he's a priest.
The two L llama, he's a beast.
And I will bet a silk pajama
There isn't any three L lllama.

or the one called The Catsup Bottle ...first a little, then a lottle!

Send me your favorite Ogden Nash poem, but for now enjoy his celebration of the season, and then a bright bouquet.

Spring Song

Listen, buds, it’s March twenty-first;
Don’t you know enough to burst?
Come on, birds, unlock your throats!
Come on, gardeners, shed your coats!
Come on zephyrs, come on flowers,
Come on grass, and violet showers!
And come on, lambs, in frisking flocks!
Salute the vernal equinox!
Twang the cheerful lute and zither!
Spring is absolutely hither!
Yester eve was dark despair,
With winter, winter, everywhere;
Today, upon the other hand,
“Tis spring throughout this happy land.
Oh, such is Nature’s chiaroscuro,
According to the Weather Bureau.

Then giddy-ap, Napoleon! Giddy-ap, Gideon!
The sun has crossed the right meridian!
What though the blasts of Winter sting?
Officially, at least, it’s Spring,
And be it far from our desire
To make the Weather Man a liar!

So, blossom, ye parks, with cozy benches,
Occupied by blushing wenches!
Pipe, ye frogs, while swains are sighing,
And furnaces unwept are dying!
Crow, ye cocks, a little bit louder!
Mount, ye sales of paint and powder!
Croon, ye crooner, yet more croonishly!
Shine, ye moon, a lot more moonishly!
And oh ye brooklets, burst your channels!
And oh ye camphor, greet ye flannels!
And bloom, ye clothesline, bloom with wash,
Where erstwhile quudged the grim galosh!
Ye transit lines, abet our follies
By turning loose your open trolleys!
And ye, ye waking hibernators,
Drain anti-freeze from your radiators!
While ye, ye otherwise useless dove,
Remember, please, to rhyme with love.

Then giddy-ap, Napoleon! Giddy-ap, Gideon!
The sun has crossed the right meridian!
What though the blasts of Winter sting?
Officially, at least, it’s Spring!