March

I See the snow-drops flutter
Their white wings in the gale.
I hear the robin utter
On high his gallant tale.

Look where the rash wind chases
With clouds the climbing sun!
The day makes merry faces-
Gaily her gray steeds run.

The bare brown trees are swinging,
The curled waves roll and rail.
Ho!-madcap Spring comes singing
On frosty Winter's trail!