When country roads begin to thaw <br />In mottled spots of damp and dust, <br />And fences by the margin draw <br />Along the frosty crust <br />Their graphic silhouettes, I say, <br />The Spring is coming round this way. <br /> <br />When morning-time is bright with sun <br />And keen with wind, and both confuse <br />The dancing, glancing eyes of one <br />With tears that ooze and ooze-- <br />And nose-tips weep as well as they, <br />The Spring is coming round this way. <br /> <br />When suddenly some shadow-bird <br />Goes wavering beneath the gaze, <br />And through the hedge the moan is heard <br />Of kine that fain would graze <br />In grasses new, I smile and say, <br />The Spring is coming round this way. <br /> <br />When knotted horse-tails are untied, <br />And teamsters whistle here and there. <br />And clumsy mitts are laid aside <br />And choppers' hands are bare, <br />And chips are thick where children play, <br />The Spring is coming round this way. <br /> <br />When through the twigs the farmer tramps, <br />And troughs are chunked beneath the trees, <br />And fragrant hints of sugar-camps <br />Astray in every breeze,-- <br />When early March seems middle May, <br />The Spring is coming round this way. <br /> <br />When coughs are changed to laughs, and when <br />Our frowns melt into smiles of glee, <br />And all our blood thaws out again <br />In streams of ecstasy, <br />And poets wreak their roundelay, <br />The Spring is coming round this way.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-early-march-seems-middle-may/
