Upon the trees the March winds ride, and clamor and cloud through the heavens stride; now girls let idle dreams alone, and would swing their hips where the dew is blown. They would flee from the house as the high clouds flee, as eager to bud as a growing tree; and one who could look in their eyes would say that in March he had had a glimpse of May. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 6. A WIFE WAITS by THOMAS HARDY BETSY'S BATTLE FLAG by MINNA IRVING THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PETIT THE POET by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 13 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE FIRST DANDELION by WALT WHITMAN |