Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/92

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The whole year round too, if he pleases,
Far from the sun's atrocious beams
He may, unbaked by burning breezes,
Live on ice creams.

And if for comfort, or for pride,
He wants shirt, breeches, coat, or vest;
Let him but bathe, then step outside,
And Lo—he's drest!

Drest in habiliments of ice,
More bright than those of old put on
At royal birthdays, by the nice
Beau Skeffington.

Happy the man, again I sing,
Who thus can freeze his life away,
Far from this hot blast's blustering.
At Hudson's Bay.

Oh that 'twere mine to be so blest.
For while my very bones are grilling,
The thoughts of such a place of rest
Are really thrilling.

Instead of jackets, I would wear
A coat of sleet, with snow lapelles,
Neatly embroidered here and there
With icicles.

Snow shoes should brace my burning feet.
And how I should enjoy a shiver,
While snow I'd drink, and snow I'd eat,
To cool my liver.

But all in vain I sigh for lands
Where happy cheeks with cold look blue.
While here i' the shade the mercury stands
At Ninety-two.