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.

March / H. Cordelia Ray

from The Procession of the Seasons

March

Robin! Robin! Call the Springtime!
    March is halting on his way;
Hear the gusts. What! snowflakes falling!
    Look not for the grass today.
    Ay, the wind will frisk and play,
    And we cannot say it nay.

~~
H. Cordelia Ray (1852-1916)
from Poems, 1910

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

[April]

H. Cordelia Ray biography

Tim Felce, "Robin - March 2009." CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons. 

We like March / Emily Dickinson

Nam LaMore, Pruple flowers in field, March 2004. CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia Commons. 

[1213]

We like March — his shoes are Purple.
He is new and high —
Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler —
Makes he Forests Dry —
Knows the Adder's Tongue his coming
And begets her spot —
Stands the Sun so close and mighty —
That our Minds are hot.
News is he of all the others —
Bold it were to die
With the Blue Birds buccaneering
On his British sky —

~~

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Emily Dickinson biography

"We like March" - a poetic minibook experience by Samuela Sanderinos.

March / Nora Chesson

March

Blossom on the plum,
Wild wind and merry;
Leaves upon the cherry,
And one swallow come.

Red windy dawn,
Swift rain and sunny;
Wild bees seeking honey,
Crocus on the lawn;
Blossom on the plum.

Grass begins to grow,
Dandelions come;
Snowdrops haste to go
After last month's snow;
Rough winds beat and blow,
Blossom on the plum.

~~
Nora Chesson (1871-1906)
from The Open Road: A little book for wayfarers, 1899

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Nora Chesson biography

"Blossom on the Plum" set to music by Max Exner, sung by Dany Rosevear

Mother Ireland / Arthur Stringer

Mother Ireland

A true and dark-eyed Mother Land, ye've mourned thim day be day,
The childer' av your achin' breast who've fared a world away!
Be moorland and be lough and whin, ye've mourned for all your lost,
But still ye've smiled and still ye've watched and counted not the cost!

And dark, in faith, the ould hours fell and cold the ashes grew,
But Ireland, Mother Ireland, still ye've waited fond and thrue;
And now the Night has vanished, wid the sorrows it has known,
We'll hear the call av Ireland, lads, av Ireland to her own!

~~
Arthur Stringer (1874-1950)
from Irish poems, 1911

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Arthur Stringer biography

Peter Benton, Ireland from Northern Ireland, 2004. CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons.

A March Glee / John Burroughs

A March Glee

I hear the wild geese honking
From out the misty night,—
A sound of moving armies
On-sweeping in their might;
The river ice is drifting
Beneath their northward flight.

I hear the bluebird plaintive
From out the morning sky,
Or see his wings a-twinkle
That with the azure vie;
No other bird more welcome,
No more prophetic cry.

I hear the sparrow's ditty
Anear my study door;
A simple song of gladness
That winter days are o'er
My heart is singing with him,
I love him more and more.

I hear the starling fluting
His liquid "O-ka-lee;"
I hear the downy drumming,
His vernal reveillé;
From out the maple orchard
The nuthatch calls to me.

Oh, spring is surely coming.
Her couriers fill the air;
Each morn are new arrivals,
Each night her ways prepare;
I scent her fragrant garments,
Her foot is on the stair.

~~
John Burroughs (1837-1921)
from Bird and Bough, 1906

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

John Burroughs biography

CheepShot, Greater White-Fronted Geese with Canadian Followers, 2013. CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia Commons

Moods of March / Ellen P. Allerton

Moods of March

Wild is the dance abroad to-night,
    As the drifts whirl to and fro;
Loud is the voice of the raging storm,
    As the fierce gusts come and go;
Black are the panes where the black night leans
    Like a homeless ghost in the snow.

Black are the panes where the black night leans 

    Within, it is warm and light.
The fire purrs low and the kettle sings,
    And the lamps shine soft and bright.
Little care we for the wind and cold,
    And little care we for the night.

What is that cry, out-voicing the storm,
    That sounds on the drifted plain?
What is that throbbing, thunderous roar?
    It is only the midnight train,
Screaming and thundering through the night,
    Like a monster mad with pain,

Silent as sleep is the wintry morn;
    All spotless the snowdrifts lie;
Pillars of smoke from household flres
    Mount straight to the cold, blue sky.
Yonder a "freight" creeps heavy, and slow,
    Where the night train thunderedby.

Wild was the night, and cold the morn;
    It is noon, and the warm wind blows;
The eaves run streams, and under our feet
    Is the slush of the melting snow.
Birds are singing, the air is like May,
    And the wild geese north-ward go.

Poets, writing your odes to spring —
    Your poems of stanzas ten —
Haste to finish, for moods of March
    Are changeful as moods of men.
I tried it once, but the wind veered north,
    And the ink froze on my pen.

~~
Ellen P. Allerton (1835-1893)
from Walls of Corn, and other poems, 1885

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Ellen P. Allerton biography

Andre Carrotflower, Laurel Street during December 2022 Buffalo, New York blizzard.
CC BY-SA, Wikimedia Commons