The stormy March has come at last
with wind and cloud and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast
that thorough the snowy valley flies.
Ah! passing few are they who speak
wild stormy month in praise of thee,
yet though thy winds are loud and bleak
thou art a welcome month to me.
For thou to northern lands again
the glad and glorious sun dost bring
And thou hast joined the gentle train
and wearest the gentle name of spring.
And in thy reign of blast and storm
smiles many a long, bright summer day
when the changed winds are soft and warm
And heaven puts on the blue of May.
Bryant
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