And Rise and Dress to Roast Another Day

A Sonnet to Heat
by May Overstreet 

When I do watch the clock that tells the time,
And know the hot day sinks to hotter night;
When I recount the hard spent hours no rhyme
Have brought, or even thought to sense or sight,--
Oh heat, oh heat, oh blasted heat, I cry!
Why come to us whose heads must crack to write?
Away, away, to those who play, them fry,
And leave us to a kind and helpful sprite.
I hate you, heat: I storm, I sweat, I toil. 
I tear my hair, I try in vain to think. 
No care you have my work to spoil
You drive me to despair the very brink.
To bed, I sigh and groan and try to pray, 
And rise and dress to roast another day.