Nature-notes and impressions in prose and verse | ||
[Rocked by the winds of March the trees become]
Rocked by the winds of March the trees become,Each one a maddened pendulum
Swayed every way as if in time
To some wild music, roaring rhyme
Shouted from storm-tossed hill to hill,
Amid the forests that are never still.
Nature-notes and impressions in prose and verse | ||