' POETRY.
MARCH WIND.
Melton blew in with a chuckling breath.
Cried, " All's well I " • And, " Away with Hell i " And laughed at Death.
Doubting men at his jolly laughter Took heart again.
Why curse at Pain Since Joy cornea after?
" The languid crust of your lust and passion My sword shall pierce."
He sang in his fierce And splendid fashion.
"Your soul," he boomed, "is sea, net fen : Sloth is the one
Foul thing to shun—
Move, 0 men ! "
" Fight the Devil! " cried March's wind With shout and thunder.
" Fight, till under Your arms he's pinned! "
" Beaten and cowed(' " he mocked. " Shame To be scared by Sin I You've a heaven to win That's worth the game.
Godlike muscles to you belong : ' Be happy ! ' say April and May I cry, ' Be strong.' " • • • March swept out as bubbles race On a windy lake, Bubbles that break And leave no trace. ROSALERN GRAVES.
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