In Spring

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin’s breast;

In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove;

In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Tennyson, “Locksley Hall”

Ah, Spring! Unfortunately, “thoughts of love,” aflutter though they may set my heart, pose an unnecessary impedance to my work-momentum, so the hearts aflutter are probably best kept at arm’s length till after finals. Yup. Sure. Just keep telling yourself that.