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
mighty
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 –