MARCH: AN ODE

1887


I

Ere frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendour
of winter had passed out of sight,
The ways of the woodlands were fairer and stranger than dreams that
fulfil us in sleep with delight;
The breath of the mouths of the winds had hardened on tree-tops and
branches that glittered and swayed
Such wonders and glories of blossomlike snow or of frost that
outlightens all flowers till it fade
That the sea was not lovelier than here was the land, nor the night
than the day, nor the day than the night,
Nor the winter sublimer with storm than the spring: such mirth had
the madness and might in thee made,
March, master of winds, bright minstrel and marshal of storms that
enkindle the season they smite.


II

And now that the rage of thy rapture is satiate with revel and
ravin and spoil of the snow,
And the branches it brightened are broken, and shattered the