EVERY sage this scheme indorses: Make your premises look neat; cart away the old dead horses, burn the rubbish and repeat. For the spring should find our city rid of every ugly thing; it will be a beastly pity, if we disappoint the spring. In the spring the world is laundered by the soft, refreshing showers, and the cleansing winds are squandered by Dame Nature at all hours; but the rainfall and the breezes can't remove the trash and junk, which, like decomposing cheeses, fill the air with perfume punk. Let us hustle, and abolish everything that draws the flies; let us clean and paint and polish till our town delights the eyes. Oh, I ought to sing the lily, when old winter ups and goes, and I ought to write some silly balderdash about the rose, but I make my harpstrings rattle, urging folks to clean their lawns; cart away dead cats and cattle, old tin cans and demijohns. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUFFMAN'S PHOTOGRAPH OF THE GRAVES OF THE UNKNOWN AT LITTLE BIGHORN by KAREN SWENSON MOUNTAIN WATER by SARA TEASDALE GO SLEEP, MA HONEY by EDWARD D. BARKER BIRD AND BROOK by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES LESSER EPISTLES: TO A LADY ON HER PASSION FOR OLD CHINA by JOHN GAY A TEAMSTER'S FAREWELL by CARL SANDBURG |