March / Mary Slade

March

The stormy March has come again,—
        March! March! March!
And rattling down the window pane,—
        March! March! March!
Come rushing torrents of the rain,—
        March! March! March!
But o'er my head my hat I swing,
And shout hurrah! like anything!
Because it is the first of Spring,—
        March! March! March!

~~
Mary Slade (1826-1882)

from The Children's Hour, 1880

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Mary Slade biography

David Howard, "Rain in Lindford," March 2015. CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons.

August / Mary Slade

August

I come! I come! and the waving field
Its wealth of golden grain shall yield.
In the hush and heat of glowing noon,
The insects' hum is the only tune;
For the merriest birds forget to sing,
And sit in the shade with drooping wing.

But see! how the purpling grapes hang high,
And ripen beneath my sunny sky!
And see! how the fruits of the bending tree
Turn blushing and rosy cheeks to me!
And soon shall your garners be over-full
With gifts from the August bountiful.

~~
Mary Slade (1826-1882)

from The Children's Hour, 1880

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Mary Slade biography