Like a Rat in a Trap
By Ogden Nash
 

After various guesses at last I’ve guessed
Why in spring I feel depressed.

When the robins begin to play
Summer is just a step away.

Then hardly the summer has commenced
When autumn is what you’re up against,

And once that autumn has muscled in on you
Winter is waiting to begin on you.

So spring isn’t spring, but otherwise,
Just a prelude to winter, which I despise.

From Ogden Nash, Good Intentions (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1937-1942)