MARCH.
Ready is Time beneath her brooding wing
To break with swelling life the brown earth’s sheath;
And fondly do we watch th’ expectant heath
For bloom and song the days are ripe to bring.
Our heralds even vaunt the birth of spring,
While yet, alack! the winter’s blatant breath
Defieth trust, and coldly shadoweth
With drifts of gray each hope that dares to sing.
Yet still we know, as deepest shades foretell