Welcoming March 2017

A Poem for March

“Dear March – Come in -“
By Emily Dickinson

Dear March – Come in –
How glad I am –
I hoped for you before –
Put down your Hat –
You must have walked –
How out of Breath you are –
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest –
Did you leave Nature well –
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me –
I have so much to tell –

I got your Letter, and the Birds –
The Maples never knew that you were coming –
I declare – how Red their Faces grew –
But March, forgive me –
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue –
There was no Purple suitable –
You took it all with you –

Who knocks? That April –
Lock the Door –
I will not be pursued –
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied –
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame –

Art for March – Peter Fiore: “Late Winter Moon, March”

Musings in March: Charles Dickens

“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold:  when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”

Art for March – Andrey Mamaev: “March”

A Second Poem for March

“Black March”
By Stevie Smith

I have a friend
At the end
Of the world.
His name is a breath

Of fresh air.
He is dressed in
Grey chiffon. At least
I think it is chiffon.
It has a
Peculiar look, like smoke.

It wraps him round
It blows out of place
It conceals him
I have not seen his face.

But I have seen his eyes, they are
As pretty and bright
As raindrops on black twigs
In March, and heard him say:

I am a breath
Of fresh air for you, a change
By and by.

Black March I call him
Because of his eyes
Being like March raindrops
On black twigs.

(Such a pretty time when the sky
Behind black twigs can be seen
Stretched out in one
Uninterrupted
Cambridge blue as cold as snow.)

But this friend
Whatever new names I give him
Is an old friend. He says:

Whatever names you give me
I am
A breath of fresh air,
A change for you.

Below – Willard Metcalf: “The Frozen Pool, March”

Art for March – Maxime Maufra: “Sunlight Port”

Musings in March: Donald Culross Peattie

“The last fling of winter is over …  The earth, the soil itself, has a dreaming quality about it.  It is warm now to the touch; it has come alive; it hides secrets that in a moment, in a little while, it will tell.”

Art for March – Camille Pissarro: “Pathway at Chou in March”

A Third Poem for March

“Mid-March”
By Lizette Woodworth Reese

It is too early for white boughs, too late
For snows. From out the hedge the wind lets fall
A few last flakes, ragged and delicate.
Down the stripped roads the maples start their small,
Soft, ’wildering fires. Stained are the meadow stalks
A rich and deepening red. The willow tree
Is woolly. In deserted garden-walks
The lean bush crouching hints old royalty,
Feels some June stir in the sharp air and knows
Soon ’twill leap up and show the world a rose.

The days go out with shouting; nights are loud;
Wild, warring shapes the wood lifts in the cold;
The moon’s a sword of keen, barbaric gold,
Plunged to the hilt into a pitch black cloud.

Art for March – John William Inchbold: “In Early Spring: A Study in March”

Musings in March: Lewis Grizzard

“Springtime is the land awakening.  The March winds are the morning yawn.”

Below – Nikki: “March Winds”

Art for March – Bill Sharp: “March sky cloud study”

A Fourth Poem for March

“The afternoon is bright”
By Antonio Machado

The afternoon is bright,
with spring in the air,
a mild March afternoon,
with the breath of April stirring,
I am alone in the quiet patio
looking for some old untried illusion –
some shadow on the whiteness of the wall
some memory asleep
on the stone rim of the fountain,
perhaps in the air
the light swish of some trailing gown.

Art for March – Willard Leroy: “The Frozen Pool in March”

Musings in March: Hal Borland

“March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice.”

Art for March – Amy Whitehouse: “March Landscape”

A Fifth Poem for March

“March is the Month of Expectation”
By Emily Dickinson

March is the Month of Expectation.
The things we do not know –
The Persons of prognostication
Are coming now –
We try to show becoming firmness –
But pompous Joy
Betrays us, as his first Betrothal
Betrays a Boy.

Art for March – Willard Metcalf: “Brook in March”

Musings in March: William Shakespeare

“Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.”

Art for March – Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones: “The March Marigold”

A Sixth Poem for March

“A Walk in March”
By Grace Paley

This hill
crossed with broken pines and maples
lumpy with the burial mounds of
uprooted hemlocks (hurricane
of ’38) out of their
rotting hearts generations rise
trying once more to become
the forest

just beyond them
tall enough to be called trees
in their youth like aspen a bouquet
of young beech is gathered

they still wear last summer’s leaves
the lightest brown almost translucent
how their stubbornness has decorated
the winter woods

Art for March – Jerry Points: “Evening Snow in March”

Musings in March: George Santayana

“To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.” 

Art for March – Andrew Wyeth: “Ides of March”

This entry was posted in Art and Photography, Books, Movies, Music, and Television, Opinion. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply