“Ah,” said Fall, “you know I am the better season.”
“Mr. Fall, how can you say that? What is your reason?”
“Sir Spring, you’re only Spring, I am Fall or Autumn”
“I say, as reasons go, that’s the barrel’s bottom.
Look at me, in winter’s wake, vibrant, fresh and green.
And my days are lovely, the best you’ve ever seen.”
“Dear, Spring, allow me to speak boldly and deny
That assertion, to which I say, ‘In a pig’s eye.’
October’s days, cool and crisp, are by far the finest.
Your spring rains cause floods, making conditions direst.”
“In May: a man, a lass, some bread, a wine bottle,
Beloved rites of spring since the age of Aristotle,
A grand and ancient tradition you cannot match.”
“What about the World Series? A Willy Mays’ catch?
And the trees, clothed in leaves of yellow, red and gold?”
“Autumn leaves? Nature telling us the year’s grown old.
But tulips, petunias, daffodils and the rose
Provide the youthful, lusty year with stylish clothes.”
“You’ve forgotten the aster and chrysanthemum.
Oh, Mr. Spring, how come you’re so dumb?
In fall the world’s ablaze in colors glorious.
It is a sight cheerful, bright and uproarious.”
“Oh please, Mr. Autumn, you are boring me so.
Fall is welcomed because the summer’s lost its glow.
Given their choice, folks would opt for Spring the year round.
You, my good sir, leave the world cold and all browned.”
“And you, dear Spring, are but a change from Winter’s frost,
Without its icy blasts, your allure would be lost.”
And all this mad dickering went on for some time,
Through summer and winter without reason or rhyme.