IN MEMORY OF MANY YEARS
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ARCH: AN ODE 1887 I Ere frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendourof winter had passed out of sight,The ways of the woodlands were fairer and stranger than dreams thatfulfil us in sleep with delight;The breath of the mouths of the winds had hardened on tree-tops andbranches that glittered and swayedSuch wonders and glories of blossomlike snow or of frost thatoutlightens all flowers till it fadeThat the sea was not lovelier than here was the land, nor the nightthan the day, nor the day than the night,Nor the winter sublimer with storm than the spring: such mirth hadthe madness and might in thee made,March, master of winds, bright minstrel and marshal of storms thatenkindle the season they smite.
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