Today is 4 December AD 2022.

We stopped at a wayside pub.

Untimely blossom! Poor, impatient thing, / ⁠That, starting rashly from the sheltering mould, / ⁠Bravest the peevish wind and sullen cold, / ⁠Mistaking thine own ardors for the spring

Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years, and then we mask’d.