Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/92

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The whole year round too, if he pleases,
 * Far from the sun's atrocious beams

He may, unbaked by burning breezes,
 * Live on ice creams.

And if for comfort, or for pride,
 * He wants shirt, breeches, coat, or vest;

Let him but bathe, then step outside,
 * And Lo—he's drest!

Drest in habiliments of ice,
 * More bright than those of old put on

At royal birthdays, by the nice
 * Beau Skeffington.

Happy the man, again I sing,
 * Who thus can freeze his life away,

Far from this hot blast's blustering.
 * At Hudson's Bay.

Oh that 'twere mine to be so blest.
 * For while my very bones are grilling,

The thoughts of such a place of rest
 * Are really thrilling.

Instead of jackets, I would wear
 * A coat of sleet, with snow lapelles,

Neatly embroidered here and there
 * With icicles.

Snow shoes should brace my burning feet.
 * And how I should enjoy a shiver,

While snow I'd drink, and snow I'd eat,
 * To cool my liver.

But all in vain I sigh for lands
 * Where happy cheeks with cold look blue.

While here i' the shade the mercury stands
 * At Ninety-two.