Beware the Odes of March, I pen!
Hark not unto their spell
The words with which they're writ, by then,
Have been through Winter's Hell.
No, read them not! though they will plead!
But pay them no attention!
You will be sorry, if you heed,
(And much too cold to mention!)
A Poem in March is frozen rhyme
Oh, harken to my lay =
Its thoughts are nil - not thawed until
At least the First of May!