Pine, Rose and Fleur de Lis

by Susie Frances Harrison


 

MARCH


 

With outstretched whirring wings of vandyked jet,
Two crows one day o’er house and pavement pass’d.
Swift silhouettes limned against the blue, they glass’d
Smooth beak and ebon feather in the wet
Of gaping pool and gutter, while, beset
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By nestward longing, high their hoarse cry cast
In the face of fickle sun and treacherous blast,
Till all the City smelt the violet.

Then through that City quick the news did run.
Great wheels were slacken’d; belts were stopped in mill,

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And fires in forges. Long ere set of sun
Dazed men, pale women sought the open hill—
They throng’d the streets. They caught the clarion cry—
“Spring has come back—trust Spring to never die!”