Princeton: etext transcription

< princeton.txt.1; poem >
We like March -
his Shoes are
Purple -
He is new and
high -
Makes he Mud
for Dog and
Peddler -
Makes he
Forest dry -
Knows the
Adder's Tongue

his coming
And begets
her Spot -
Stands the Sun
so close and
That our Minds
are hot -
News is he
of all the others -
Bold it were
to die
With the Blue
Birds buccaneering
On his British
Sky -