Ah, quick her tears are springing, But gladness walks beside. She comes with gusts of laughter,— With tenderness and sweetness, The wisdom of the hills. Her hands are strong to comfort, There is no living creature, But she will know its trouble, Oh, well they fare forever, By mighty dreams possessed, Whose hearts have lain a moment. On that eternal breast. Bliss Carman [1861 MARCH SLAYER of winter, art thou here again? O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh! Yea, welcome, March! and though I die ere June, What happiness to look upon the sun!" March O, what begetteth all this storm of bliss, Stretch forth your open hands, and, while ye live, 1351 Take all the gifts that Death and Life may give." William Morris [1834-1896] SONG IN MARCH Now are the winds about us in their glee, Tossing the slender tree; Whirling the sands about his furious car, March cometh from afar; Breaks the sealed magic of old Winter's dreams, And rends his glassy streams; Chafing with potent airs, he fiercely takes Their fetters from the lakes, And, with a power by queenly Spring supplied, Wakens the slumbering tide. With a wild love he seeks young Summer's charms And clasps her to his arms; Lifting his shield between, he drives away Old Winter from his prey; The ancient tyrant whom he boldly braves, Goes howling to his caves; And, to his northern realm compelled to fly, Yields up the victory; Melted are all his bands, o'erthrown his towers, And March comes bringing flowers. William Gilmore Simms [1806-1870] MARCH BLOSSOM on the plum, Wild wind and merry; And one swallow come. Red windy dawn, Swift rain and sunny; Wild bees seeking honey, Blossom on the plum. Grass begins to grow, Rough winds beat and blow, Blossom on the plum. Nora Hopper [1871 WRITTEN IN MARCH THE Cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated On the top of the bare hill; The ploughboy is whooping-anon--anon There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone! William Wordsworth (1770-1850] Sweet Wild April Laughed the running sap in every vein, Laughed the life in every wandering root, God in all the concord of their mirth Heard the adoration-song of Earth. Charles G. D. Roberts [1860 1355 SWEET WILD APRIL O SWEET Wild April Came over the hills, He skipped with the winds And he tripped with the rills; His raiment was all Of the daffodils. Sing hi, Sing hey, Sing ho! O sweet wild April Came down the lea, Dancing along With his sisters three: Carnation, and Rose, And tall Lily. Sing hi, Sing hey, O sweet wild April, On pastoral quill Came piping in moonlight In starlight at midnight, By dingle and rill. Sing hi, Sing hey, Sing ho! Where sweet wild April His melody played, A star in the shade. Sing hey, Sing ho! When sweet wild April Dipped down the dale, Pale cuckoopint brightened, And windflower frail, And white-thorn, the wood-bride, In virginal veil. Sing hi, Sing hey, Sing ho! When sweet wild April Through deep woods pressed, Sang cuckoo above him, And lark on his crest, And Philomel fluttered Close under his breast. Sing hi, Sing hey, Sing ho! O sweet wild April, Wherever you went Was broken and rent, And frost-goblin's tene |