Vintage Colorado Poetry Poem of the Week December 4, 2006
						From 125 years ago, Eugene Field asks, Could this be global warming?
		December, 1881 / Eugene Field Up to the blue and cloudless skies,    That bend from east to western peaks,    And have not changed for weary weeks, I vainly turn my anxious eyes. And in those skies I see the glow,    Of summer or of wakening spring,    Their smiling countenances bring No faint suspicion e'en of snow. Upon the soft and balmy air    I hear the birdling's joyful trill,    And by the purling mountain rill The flowers are blooming sweet and fair. The buds are bursting on the trees,    The blades of grass begin to start,    And oh, I feel it in my heart, There isn't going to be a freeze ! Why is it I alone am sad    When all the rest of earth is gay ?    Why do I weep my soul away While other women folks are glad ? Alas, mine is a bitter life,    My only hope, my only trust,    Is in a freeze, or in a bust, I am an humble plumber's wife. December 29th, 1881.
	Reprinted from A Little Book of Tribune Verse:  A Number of Hitherto Uncollected Poems, Grave and Gay by Eugene Field Collected and Edited by Joseph G. Brown Denver, Colo. Tandy, Wheeler & Co., Publishers, 1901 Copyright, 1901 by Tandy, Wheeler & Co.
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