'Tis spring; but laid In ambuscade The Snow malignant lingers, And on the hill The March wind still At times must blow his fingers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: SHACK DYE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE BLIND GOD by ISAAC ROSENBERG LAUSANNE: IN GIBBON'S OLD GARDEN by THOMAS HARDY PRE-EXISTENCE by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE ETUDE REALISTE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE COWARD by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA |