MarchThe bitter winds from the frozen north Are twisting the quaking trees. Their somber boughs send a wailing forth Against this chilling breeze. The little birds from their mates are lost, Are silent and stand forlorn. The budding flowers arc black with frost, Their petals shattered, torn. |
Kansas Poets
Edited by May William Ward
(New York: Henry Harrison. 1935)
Page 37
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