Image from I Photo Central.
Where the gusty skies o’erarch
Hill and hollow, rock and river,
Comes the blustering wind of March,
Setting all the reeds a-shiver;
Leafless willow tree and arch,
How their branches shake and quiver!
Touch of grasses on the hill
Where the awkward lambs are playing;
Color-glints that nestle still
Where the violets are staying;
Sound of waters by the mill
Where the current down is straying.
Swallows in their figured flight,
Upward rising, downward dipping,
Pass, as would ashaft of light
Into opened shutter slipping,
Now above in airy height,
Now across the mill-pond skipping.
Now the world is in its prime,
Banished all the signs of sadness,
Spring’s wild winds are set to rhyme
Sweeter than midsummer’s madness;
Even on the face of Time —
Old and wrinkled — there is gladness.
— Ernest McGaffey in Women’s Home Companion.
The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Mar 4, 1899
Image from the Historical Boys’ Clothing website.
March! and all the winds cry, March!
As they sweep the heaven’t arch,
Polishing the stars that gem
Earth’s resplendent diadem;
Setting all the waters free
From the winter’s chancery,
Sending down an avalanche
From the tree’s snow-covered branch.
March makes clear the frosty track
That the birds may hasten back
On their northward flight and bring
Jocund carols for the spring.
March is merry, march is mad,
March is gay and March is sad;
Every humor we may know
If we list the winds that blow,
Have you heard the bugle call
Gathering the soldiers all?
March is Springs’ own trumpeter,
Hailing us to welcome her.
— Frank Dempster Sherman in Exchange.
The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Mar 12, 1900
Image from the Rampant Scotland website.
A SONG FOR MARCH.
It is the roaring month of March.
The wild northeaster bends the larch;
The gray rain beating on the wold
Has closed the crocus cups of gold,
Adown the dale, adown the dale,
The thrush pipes sadly to the gale;
His song is sad, and I would hear
The anthem of the coming year.
But there will be an April day —
The thrush will pipe another lay,
And we will find on greener hills
White violets and daffodils.
— Eric Parker in March St. Nicholas.
The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Mar 13, 1900
Image from the Finnish Blog, Lankokamero.
I am the bringer of the swallow.
I bring with grass the woodland hollow —
I open up the folded mallow,
I hang the willow with green laces.
In marshy places
I set the shining golden faces
Of kingcups, with the gorse to follow.
I am the life of daffodils
Deep in the valley on the hills
I am the wind that sways the grasses;
I am the love ‘twixt lads and lasses,
Love that is sweet and swiftly passes;
I dust with golden meal the sallow;
I am deep water and the shallow —
I am the blossom on the mallow.
— Nora Hopper in Exchange.
The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Mar 29, 1900
Image from the Old Tonbridge History website.
A SONG FOR MARCH.
Sing ho! sing ho, for the sleet and snow!
For the stormy March and the winds that blow
From north and south, now high, now low,
Or chill or warm!
Oh, March is the month of months for me;
Its south winds set old winter free,
And tell of the springtime soon to be
With all its charm.
Sing ho, for March on the sea’s bleak shore,
Where the bracing breezes evermore
Blow up from the ocean bearing before,
The salty spray!
Sing ho! for March among the hills!
Melting snow filling the ice-rimmed rills,
Streams rushing madly past meadows and mills
Day after day.
Sing ho, for the roughest month of all,
When shrill o’er the tempest sounds the call
Of the crow from woodland tree-top tall,
Telling of spring!
And ho, for the waning winter days,
When the lingering north winds cold delays
April’s coming, and chills the sun’s red rays!
Oh, March is king!
— Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly
The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Mar 5, 1901
By coincidence, all the images happen to be from other countries, while all the poems were published in American newspapers.