Say what you will, this month of March brings hope!
In spite of marrow-tingling days and nights
Thermometers will touch unheard of heights
One day this month, when troops of maids with soap
And men with screens and spades will try to cope
With this bright season come so quickly. Kites
Appear–and marbles bring on boyish fights,
And hatless yellow curls bob skipping rope.
What if, next day, The sun deserts again,
And crocuses sulk tight-lipped in the cold?
Take heart, chilled robin, life has always been
As full of ups and downs as spring. Don’t scold,
For there, defying winter’s final blow,
The greening willow smiles above the snow.
by Ray Romine Monday, March 24, 1952
