Prior to this day's cuttings and pullings, Lawn Hickey was not unlike this!
Time! on whose arbitrary wingGet your fat ass out to the garage! Lube the damn wheels on the WalMart Special and start pushing!
The varying hours must flag or fly,
Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring,
But drag or drive us on to die---
Hail thou! who on my birth bestowed
Those boons to all that know thee known;
Yet better I sustain thy load,
For now I bear the weight alone.
With rapid Force our sharpen'd Blades we drive,
Strain ev'ry Nerve, and Blow for Blow we give.
All strive to vanquish, tho' the Victor gains
No other Glory, but the greatest Pains.
Here - and here is what I hath wrought!
WITH Heat and Labour tir'd, our Scythes we quit,
Search out a shady Tree, and down we sit:
From Scrip and Bottle hope new Strength to gain;
But Scrip and Bottle too are try'd in vain.
New-growing Labours still succeed the past;The neighbors are having a Fly-Over by the Blue Angels at noon.
And growing always new, must always last.