Seedy Henry rose up shy in de world
& shaved & swung his barbells, duded Henry up
And p. a.’d poor thousands of persons on topics of grand
Moment to Henry, ah to those less & none.
Wif a book of his in either hand
He is stript down to move on.
Â€”Come away, Mr. Bones.
Â€”Henry is tired of the winter,
& haircuts, & a squeamish comfy ruin-prone proud national
mind, & Spring (in the city so called).
Henry likes Fall.
HÃ© would be prepared to lÃve in a world of FÃ¡ll
For ever, impenitent Henry.
But the snows and summers grieve & dream;
ThÃ©se fierce & airy occupations, and love,
Raved away so many of Henry’s years
It is a wonder that, with in each hand
One of his own mad books and all,
Ancient fires for eyes, his head full
& his heart full, he’s making ready to move on.