Both tender.
(A rattling of door and windows; branches seen without, tossing violently to and fro.)
How the doors rattle, and the branches sway!
Here’s brother March comes whirling on his way,
With winds that eddy and sing.
(She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and discloses March hastening up, both hands full of violets and anemones.)
February.
Come, show me what you bring;
For I have said my say, fulfilled my day,
And must away.