richard mitchley - march by john payne lyrics
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march comes at last, the labouring lands to free
rude bl+sterer, with thy cloud+compelling blast
the pining plains from cark of winter past
that clear’st and carpetest each bush and tree
with daffodil and wood+anemone
a voice from the illimitable vast
of dreams thou art, the tale that doth forecast
of hope yet live and happiness to be
and hark, the robin fluting on the bough
the rough breeze tangling on his tender breast
the ruddy plumes! yet sings he, unopprest
the awakening year, the blеssed burgeoning
in wood and weald, thе then becoming now
and all the pleasant presage of the spring
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