01 March 2016

March! March! March!


"March! March! March! They are coming 
In troops to the tune of the wind. 
Redheaded woodpeckers drumming, 
Gold - crested thrushes behind; 
Sparrows in brown jackets, hopping 
Past every gateway and door; 
Finches, with crimson caps, stopping 
Just where they stopped before. 
March! March! March! They are slipping 
Into their places at last. . . 
Literature white lily buds, dripping 
Under the showers that fall fast; 
Buttercups, violets, roses; 
Snowdrop and bluebell and pink, 
Throng upon throng of sweet posies 
Bending the dewdrops to drink. 
March! March! March! They will hurry 
Forth at the wild bugle sound, 
Blossoms and birds in a flurry, 
Fluttering all over the ground. 
Shake out your flags, birch and willow! 
Shake out your red tassels, larch! 
Grass blades, up from your earth - pillow. 
Hear who is calling you. . . March." 
-  Lucy Larcom, March  


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