Classic Poem

When gray clouds break on Southern skies
And winds of March begin to blow,
Our fancies run to summer sighs,
That whisper and delight us so.

For in this stormy month of winds,
The first new pulse of life is felt,
When spring with all her sweets begins,
Where winter's ice and snow have dwelt.

The bluebird carols out his note,
A prelude to the country round,
Of chimes a few more days remote,
To which the forest will resound —

The plowman's song, the forest chime,
The upturned sod, the country scene,
Bespeak a resurrection time
In air and sky and sprouting green.

O, blessed hope of life anew
That comes from death when spring begins;
Life after death a promise true
Is brought in March's stormy winds.