1824

MARCH

by William Cullen Bryant

MARCH -

The stormy March is come at last,

With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;

I hear the rushing of the blast,

That through 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 wear'st the gentle name of Spring. -

And, in thy reign of blast and storm,

Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,

When the changed winds are soft and warm,

And heaven puts on the blue of May. -

Then sing aloud the gushing rills

In joy that they again are free,

And, brightly leaping down the hills,

Renew their journey to the sea. -

The year's departing beauty hides

Of wintry storms the sullen threat;

But in thy sternest frown abides

A look of kindly promise yet. -

Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies,

And that soft time of sunny showers,

When the wide bloom, on earth that lies,

Seems of a brighter world than ours. - -