Pebbles and Shells (Hawkes collection)/'Tis March

by Clarence Hawkes

'TIS MARCH

'Tis March and far o'er hill and dale,
With rush, and roar, the winter gale
 Through bitter cold is flying;
While down beneath the frozen snow,
The fairest flowers that ever blow
 In winter graves are lying.

No sunshine melts the icy hand,
That still in grip-like iron band
 The tend'rest life is holding,
Unwarmed by any parting light,
The dreary mantle of the night
 About the earth is folding.

Nay! fret thee not—the day will come
When from their far-off sunny home,
 Will come the Southern breezes,
To melt away the ice and snow,
And whisper to the flowers below—
 "Dread March no longer freezes."

Then birds will sing in all the bowers,
And softest clouds and fairest flowers
 Will whisper joys unspoken;
All Nature'll sing a sweeter song,
Because the winter has been long,
 And now his chains are broken.

'Tis March, and o'er my weary soul
Misfortune's storm with ceaseless roll,
 Its onward march is sweeping;
While far beneath the lapse of years
Long buried there, with many tears,
 My fondest hopes are sleeping.

No sunshine ushers in the day,
No sunbeams fall across the way
 To cheer a heart that's weary;
And still the darkest storm-clouds lie
Across the azure of my sky,
 And all is dark and dreary.

Be strong, my heart! I know some day
That all thy clouds shall roll away,
 By fortune's breezes driven;
Then hope shall scatter all thy fears;
A sunny smile shall dry thy tears,
 And thou shalt see but heaven.