bly tortured
By swollen nose and bloodshot, flaming eyes;
If you can go on sneezing like a geyser
And never utter one unmeasured curse;
If you can squeeze the useless atomiser
Nor look with envy on each passing hearse;
If you can still be merry in September,
And not lay plans to drown yourself in drink,
Then your career is something to remember,
And you deserve an Iron Cross, I think!

HAY FEVER

If Amy Lowell Had It

Far away
In the third-floor-back of my skull
I feel a light, airy, prurient, menacing tickling,
Dainty as the pattering toes of nautch girls
On a polished cabaret floor.
Suddenly,
With a crescendo like an approaching express train,
The fury bursts upon me....
My brain explodes.
Pinwheels of violet fire
Whirl and spin before my bloodshot eyes--
Violet, puce, ochre, nacre, euchre ... all the other
Colours,
Including jade, umber and sienna.
My ears ring, my soul reels.
I tingle with agony.
Who invented goldenrod?
I wish I were dead.
Aaaaaaarrrrrrhhhaashoooo!

HAY FEVER

If Hilaire Belloc Had It

With this handkerchief and this nose
Seven million separate blows
Neighed I, brayed I, sobbed I, blew I,
Snorted I, wept I, mopped I, crew I,
Tickled I, prickled I, groaned and moaned I,
And for all my sins atoned I;
Raged I, sniffled I, and exploded,
And a speedy death foreboded,
Swayed I, prayed I, shook I, shouted I,
To expensive doctors touted I,
Gobbled I, hobbled I, atomised I,
Cursed I and philosophised I,
Worked I, shirked I, lay and lurked I,
And in horrid spasms jerked I,
Camphored, menthol'd, and cold creamed I
And asthmatic nightmares dreamed I,
Those who hate me highly pleased I,
And--I'll not conceal it--
SNEEZED I!

HAY FEVER

If Edgar Lee Masters Had It

Ed Grimes always did hate me
Because I wrote better poetry than he did.
In the hay fever season I used to walk
Along the river bank, to keep as far as possible
Away from pollen.
One day Ed and his brother crept up behind me
While I was writing a sonnet,
Tied my hands and feet,
And carried me into a hayfield and left me.
I sneezed myself to death.
At the funeral the church was full of goldenrod,
And I think it must have been Ed
Who sowed t