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1861–1899

IN MARCH

Archibald Lampman

The sun falls warm: the southern winds awake: The air seethes upward with a steamy shiver: Each dip of the road is now a crystal lake, And every rut a little dancing river.

Through great soft clouds that sunder overhead The deep sky breaks as pearly blue as summer: Out of a cleft beside the river's bed Flaps the black crow, the first demure newcomer.

The last seared drifts are eating fast away With glassy tinkle into glittering laces: Dogs lie asleep, and little children play With tops and marbles in the sunbare places;

And I that stroll with many a thoughtful pause Almost forget that winter ever was.

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IN MARCH · Archibald Lampman · Poetry Cove