THE EARTH seems a desolate mother,-
Betrayed like the princess of old,
The ermine stripped from her shoulders,
And her bosom all naked and cold.
But a joy looks out from her sadness,
For she feels with a glad unrest
The throb of the unborn summer
Under her bare, brown breast
March
Charles Harper Webb
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Poem topics: joy, mother, summer, earth, brown, cold, glad, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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