The month of March seems to have sparked poets into writing their verse over the years. Perhaps it’s the hint of spring in the air that does it.
The year’s at the spring,
And days at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hillside’s dew pearled;
The lark’s on the wing,
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his heaven –
All’s right with the world.
Robert Browning
Drink nettle tea in March and
Mugwort tea in May
And cowslip wine in June to
Send decline away.
The first was snow and sleet,
The next was cold and wet.
The third was such a freeze
The bird’s nest stuck to trees.