March Poem by Cornelius Webb

LIKE as that lion through the green woods came,
With roar which startled the hushed solitudes,
Yet, soon as he saw Una, that white dame
To Virtue wedded, quieted his rude
And savage heart, and at her feet fell tame
As a pet lamb,-so March, though his first mood
Was boisterous and wild, feeling that shame
Would follow his fell steps, if Spring's young brood
Of buds and blossoms withered where he trod,-
Calmed his fierce ire. And now both violets
Breathe their new lives; the tawny primrose sits
Like squatted gypsy on the wayside clod;
And early bees are all day on the wing,
And work like labour, yet like pleasure sing.