A MIDSUMMER ODE.

Oh for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
Oh for an iceberg or two at control!
Oh for a vale which at midday the dew cumbers!
Oh for a pleasure-trip up to the Pole!

Oh for a little one-story thermometer,
With nothing but Zeros all ranged in a row!
Oh for a big, double-barrelled hygrometer,
To measure this moisture that rolls from my brow!

Oh that this cold world were twenty times colder!
(That's irony red hot it seemeth to me.)
Oh for a turn of its dreaded cold shoulder!
Oh what a comfort an ague would be!

Oh for a grotto to typify heaven,
Scooped in the rock under cataract vast!
Oh for a winter of discontent even!
Oh for wet blankets judiciously cast!

Oh for a soda-fount spouting up boldly
From every hot lamp-post against the hot sky!
Oh for proud maiden to look on me coldly,
Freezing my soul with a glance of her eye!

Then oh for a draught from a cup of "cold pizen!"
And oh for a resting-place in the cold grave!
With a bath in the Styx, where the thick shadow lies on
And deepens the chill of its dark-running wave!