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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395832" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>January Jumps About</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">January jumps about<br>in the frying pan<br>trying to heat<br>his frozen feet<br>like a Canadian.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">February scuttles under<br>any dish's lid<br>and she thinks she's dry because she's<br>thoroughly well hid<br>but it still rains all month long<br>and it always did.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">March sits in the bath tub<br>with the taps turned on.<br>Hot and cold, cold or not,<br>Has the Winter gone?<br>In like a lion, out like a lamb<br>March on, march on, march on.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">April slips about<br>sometimes indoors<br>and sometimes out<br>sometimes sheltering from a little<br>shower of bright rain<br>in an empty milk bottle<br>then dashing out again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">May, she hides nowhere,<br>nowhere at all,<br>Proud as a peacock<br>walking by a wall.<br>The Maytime O the Maytime,<br>full of leaf and flower.<br>The Maytime O the Maytime<br>is the loveliest of all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">June discards his shirt and<br>trousers by the stream<br>and takes the first dip of the year<br>into a jug of cream.<br>June is the gay time<br>of every girl and boy<br>who run about and sing and shout<br>in pardonable joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">July by the sea<br>sits dabbling with sand<br>letting it run out of<br>her rather lazy hand,<br>and sometimes she sadly<br>thinks: &quot;As I sit here<br>ah, more than half the year is gone,<br>the evanescent year.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">August by an emperor<br>was given his great name.<br>It is gold and purple<br>like a Hall of Fame.<br>(I have known it rather cold<br>and wettish, all the same.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">September lies in shadows<br>of the fading summer<br>hearing, in the distance,<br>the silver horns of winter<br>and not very far off<br>the coming autumn drummer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">October, October<br>apples on the tree,<br>the Partridge in the Wood and<br>the big winds at sea,<br>the mud beginning in the lane<br>the berries bright and red<br>and the big tree wildly<br>tossing its old head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">November, when the fires<br>love to burn, and leaves<br>flit about and fill the air<br>where the old tree grieves.<br>November, November<br>its name is like a star<br>glittering on many things that were<br>but few things that are.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Twelfth and last December.<br>a few weeks away<br>we hear the silver bells<br>of the stag and the sleigh<br>flying from the tundras<br>far far away<br>bringing to us all the gift<br>of our Christmas Day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Barker">George Barker</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395832" data-title="January Jumps About de George Barker" data-description="January jumps about
in the frying pan
trying to heat
his frozen feet
like a Canadian.

February scuttles under
any dish's lid
and she thinks she's dry because she's
thoroughly well hid
but it still rains all month long
and it always did.

March si..."></div>
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