Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MARCH WIND, by HAZEL PARTRIDGE THORNE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MARCH WIND, by                    
First Line: Here I come shrieking across the plain
Last Line: Naught but a playground made for me.
Subject(s): March (month); Wind


Here I come shrieking across the plain
And over and over and over again
I fling myself with a mad delight
On the trees and shake them with all my might.

And some will bend and some will break,
And on I rush and leave in my wake
Disaster sometimes, -- sometimes maybe
A hint of the Spring who is following me.

I sweep the clouds that leaden lie
Beneath a dull grey bowl of sky
And send them scudding as souls set free
To the chant of my pagan ecstasy.

I lash the waves to an angry roar,
And high in the air the white gulls soar;
I seize the puny craft of man
And strew its wreck as far as I can.

Long have I waited in silence grim
In the Cave of the Wind's recesses dim
For this -- the hour when Earth shall be
Naught but a playground made for me.





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