Slayer of the winter, art thou here again? <br />O welcome, thou that's bring'st the summer nigh! <br />The bitter wind makes not thy victory vain, <br />Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky. <br />Welcome, O March! whose kindly days and dry <br />Make April ready for the throstle's song, <br />Thou first redresser of the winter's wrong! <br /> <br />Yea, welcome March! and though I die ere June, <br />Yet for the hope of life I give thee praise, <br />Striving to swell the burden of the tune <br />That even now I hear thy brown birds raise, <br />Unmindful of the past or coming days; <br />Who sing: 'Oh joy! a new year is begun: <br />What happiness to look upon the sun!' <br /> <br />Ah, what begetteth all this storm of bliss <br />But death himself, who crying solemnly, <br />E'en from the heart of sweet Forgetfulness, <br />Bids us 'Rejoice, lest pleasureless ye die, <br />Within a little time must ye go by. <br />Stretch forth your open hands, and while ye live <br />Take all the gifts that Death and Life may give.'<br /><br />William Morris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/march-3/
