The sun falls warm: the southern winds awake: <br />The air seethes upwards with a steamy shiver: <br />Each dip of the road is now a crystal lake, <br />And every rut a little dancing river. <br />Through great soft clouds that sunder overhead <br />The deep sky breaks as pearly blue as summer: <br />Out of a cleft beside the river's bed <br />Flaps the black crow, the first demure newcomer. <br /> <br />The last seared drifts are eating fast away <br />With glassy tinkle into glittering laces: <br />Dogs lie asleep, and little children play <br />With tops and marbles in the sun-bare places; <br />And I that stroll with many a thoughtful pause <br />Almost forget that winter ever was.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-march-2/
