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March
By Alexander B. McNair
10/12/1836-4/26/1904Hail! Stormy March!
No other month
Is welcomed more than thee:
The furious blast
That hurries past
Is but the winter freed.
The ice-bound lake
Its fetters break
when though again art near;
The waters foam
Where fishes roam
When Spring with thee is here
The ocean's wave
Where many a brave
as stemmed the current wild,
Is tossed and rolled
Like mountins bold
Before the furious tide.
The fields which seem
No life to them
Are wakened by the blast,
And grains arise,
Such as we prize
Now that the winter's past.
Thrice welcome, then,
We'll prize thee when
The cold cold days are o'er,
though winds may blow
Where e'er we go,
On lake or distant shore.
March the 4th 1864 while on Picket
DayPoems Poem No. 1276
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