An Ode to March

Dear March, tonight the garden breathed your name.
I heard it from Crepe Myrtle when she dropped
a red-gold leaf, then Daisy said the same:
It's time old Summer's tyranny was stopped.

We feel the coolness of your gentle touch
at twilight and again at break of day,
and though you come so softly you are much
the stronger; summer can't hold you at bay!

We yearn for autumn, favoured of all seasons,
we yearn for morning mists and cool sweet rain.
We need you for a multitude of reasons,
and long for gold and crimson leaves again.

Come swiftly March, we sicken with the heat
and tire of rampant growth; we long to rest.
Come swiftly now, and make hot summer beat
a crushed retreat! Ah March! We love you best,