Back to Index


by Elizabeth Drew Stoddard, 1895

Ho, wind of March, speed over sea,
  From mountains where the snows lie deep
  The cruel glaciers threatening creep,
And witness this, my jubilee!

Roar from the surf of boreal isles,
  Roar from the hidden, jagged steeps,
  Where the destroyer never sleeps;
Ring through the iceberg's Gothic piles!

Voyage through space with your wild train,
  Harping its shrillest, searching tone,
  Or wailing deep its ancient moan,
And learn how impotent your reign.

Then hover by this garden bed,
  With all your wilful power, behold,
  Just breaking from the leafy mould,
My little primrose lift its head!

Published in Poems
Tags: nature

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.