 | Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne |  |
202
SONNET.
COMPOSED ON A MARCH MORNING IN THE WOODS.
The winds are loud and trumpet-clear to-day;They seem to sound an onset, half in ire,
Half in the wildness of a vague desire
To force spring's fairy vanguard to delay;
For here, methinks, worn winter stands at bay,
Yet stands how vainly! spring-time's subtlest fire
Melts his cold heart to nothingness, while nigher
Draw April hosts, and rearward powers of May—
All maiden verdures, concords of sweet air,
Stealing as dawn steals gently on the world;
Breezes, balm-laden, blown from distant seas,
With armies of blush-roses, dew-impearled,
Till Earth reclaimed from winter's grim despair
Blooms as once bloomed the fair Hesperides.
| Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | |