Classic Poem

With fanfare and with tantivy
The chasing winds swept past;
The night was wild as night could be
But fell in hush at last.

Dawn! and the Sun of March began
To pace across the sky;
No longer by the shortened span
Of wintry days gone by.

The journeying orb was clothed upon
With subtile-spun array:
It was, of light, the eidolon
Amid a doubtful day.

Now, like the thinnest wafer shone,
Behind a cloud-film gray;
And now, it seemed the moon, all wan,
In heaven gone astray!

But, swimming up the heightened arch,
It pierced the veiling mist—
Lo, how the Silver Sun of March
With silver all things kissed!

Silver upon the waking streams
And dipping willow-spray;
Old stubble-fields caught silver gleams—
Old farm-roofs far away!

And there was no obscurest spot
But had its magic gleam …
The Silver Sun of March—it shot
A white ray on my dream!