Time Will Fade It

Oh, the horns—so it’s a snall.

Sluggard, if you wish to please us

Study harder, and you won’t fail!

We aren’t those same rowdy drunks

Swilling polar concoctions

Since the ice floes have lately shrunk.

Aged sixteen: the ice is raspberry;

I won’t ransack your basket

Till the jeering dawn is fit to bury.

At my age, it looks dumb to cry;

I’ll climb near the sun, up in the attic,

So that my tears will quickly dry.