(For A Fresco.) Firstly Thou, Churl Son Of Janus, Rough For Cold, In Drugget Clad, Com'St With Rack And Rheum To Pain Us;-- Firstly Thou, Churl Son Of Janus. Caverned Now Is Old Sylvanus; Numb And Chill Are Maid And Lad. After Thee Thy Dripping Brother, Dank His Weeds Around Him Cling; Fogs His Footsteps Swathe And Smother,-- After Thee Thy Dripping Brother. Hearth-Set Couples Hush Each Other, Listening For The Cry Of Spring. Hark! For March Thereto Doth Follow, Blithe,--A Herald Tabarded; O'Er Him Flies The Shifting Swallow,-- Hark! For March Thereto Doth Follow. Swift His Horn, By Holt And Hollow, Wakes The Flowers In Winter Dead. Thou Then, April, Iris' Daughter, Born Between The Storm And Sun; Coy As Nymph Ere Pan Hath Caught Her,-- Thou Then, April, Iris' Daughter. Now Are Light, And Rustling Water; Now Are Mirth, And Nests Begun. May The Jocund Cometh After, Month Of All The Loves (And Mine); Month Of Mock And Cuckoo-Laughter,-- May The Jocund Cometh After. Beaks Are Gay On Roof And Rafter; Luckless Lovers Peak And Pine. June The Next, With Roses Scented, Languid From A Slumber-Spell; June In Shade Of Leafage Tented;-- June The Next, With Roses Scented. Now Her Itys, Still Lamented, Sings The Mournful Philomel. Hot July Thereafter Rages, Dog-Star Smitten, Wild With Heat; Fierce As Pard The Hunter Cages,-- Hot July Thereafter Rages. Traffic Now No More Engages; Tongues Are Still In Stall And Street. August Next, With Cider Mellow, Laughs From Out The Poppied Corn; Hook At Back, A Lusty Fellow,-- August Next, With Cider Mellow. Now In Wains The Sheafage Yellow 'Twixt The Hedges Slow Is Borne. Laden Deep With Fruity Cluster, Then September, Ripe And Hale; Bees About His Basket Fluster,-- Laden Deep With Fruity Cluster. Skies Have Now A Softer Lustre; Barns Resound To Flap Of Flail. Thou Then, Too, Of Woodlands Lover, Dusk October, Berry-Stained; Wailed About Of Parting Plover,-- Thou Then, Too, Of Woodlands Lover. Fading Now Are Copse And Cover; Forests Now Are Sere And Waned. Next November, Limping, Battered, Blinded In A Whirl Of Leaf; Worn Of Want And Travel-Tattered,-- Next November, Limping, Battered. Now The Goodly Ships Are Shattered, Far At Sea, On Rock And Reef. Last Of All The Shrunk December Cowled For Age, In Ashen Gray; Fading Like A Fading Ember,-- Last Of All The Shrunk December. Him Regarding, Men Remember Life And Joy Must Pass Away.