Volume Iii Part 12 (2/2)

Over the wintry threshold Who comes with joy today, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o'er dismay?

Ah, quick her tears are springing, And quickly they are dried, For sorrow walks before her, But gladness walks beside.

She comes with gusts of laughter,-- The music as of rills; With tenderness and sweetness, The wisdom of the hills.

Her hands are strong to comfort, Her heart is quick to heed; She knows the signs of sadness, She knows the voice of need;

There is no living creature, However poor or small, But she will know its trouble, And hearken to its call.

Oh, well they fare forever, By mighty dreams possessed, Whose hearts have lain a moment On that eternal breast.

Bliss Carman [1861-1929]

MARCH

Slayer of winter, art thou here again?

O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh!

The bitter wind makes not thy victory vain, Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.

Welcome, O March! whose kindly days and dry Make April ready for the throstle's song, Thou first redresser of the winter's wrong!

Yea, welcome, March! and though I die ere June, Yet for the hope of life I give thee praise, Striving to swell the burden of the tune That even now I hear thy brown birds raise, Unmindful of the past or coming days; Who sing, ”O joy! a new year is begun!

What happiness to look upon the sun!”

O, what begetteth all this storm of bliss, But Death himself, who, crying solemnly, Even from the heart of sweet Forgetfulness, Bids us, ”Rejoice! lest pleasureless ye die.

Within a little time must ye go by.

Stretch forth your open hands, and, while ye live, Take all the gifts that Death and Life may give.”

William Morris [1834-1896]

SONG IN MARCH

Now are the winds about us in their glee, Tossing the slender tree; Whirling the sands about his furious car, March cometh from afar; Breaks the sealed magic of old Winter's dreams, And rends his gla.s.sy streams; Chafing with potent airs, he fiercely takes Their fetters from the lakes, And, with a power by queenly Spring supplied, Wakens the slumbering tide.

With a wild love he seeks young Summer's charms And clasps her to his arms; Lifting his s.h.i.+eld between, he drives away Old Winter from his prey;-- The ancient tyrant whom he boldly braves, Goes howling to his caves; And, to his northern realm compelled to fly, Yields up the victory; Melted are all his bands, o'erthrown his towers, And March comes bringing flowers.

William Gilmore Simms [1806-1870]

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