Poems

"Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not:I am no summer friend, but wintry cold,A silly sheep benighted from the fold,A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot.Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot,Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold;Lest you with me should shiver on the wold,Athirst and hungering on a barren spot."