Slayer of the winter, art thou here again? O
welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh! The bitter wind makes not the
victory vain. Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.
William Morris
Who in this world of ours their eyes In March
first open shall be wise; In days of peril firm and brave, And wear a
Bloodstone to their grave.
Unattributed Author
Ah, March! we know thou art Kind-hearted, spite
of ugly looks and threats, And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!
Helen Hunt Jackson
With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and
stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her
earliest child arise; March!
Bayard Taylor
In fierce March weather White waves break
tether, And whirled together At either hand, Like weeds uplifted, The
tree-trunks rifted In spars are drifted, Like foam or sand.
Algernon Charles
The air is like a butterfly with frail blue wings.
The happy earth looks at the sky and sings.
Joyce Kilmer
Each leaf, each blade of grass vies for attention.
Even weeds carry tiny blossoms to astonish us.
Marianne Poloskey
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