Keen, biting frost, a chilling wind,
With drifting snow and bitter sleet,
Ah! Nature has been too unkind,
To leave fair Spring so far behind,
That goddess we so long to meet.

March has prolonged grim Winter's reign,
For still the storm king looks as bold,
As when he spread o'er hill and plain,
The frost and snow, which still remain,
Yes, March, thy breath was rather cold.

Will April come with pleasing grace,
And chase Boreas to his lair!
And will old Sol with dazzling face,
Smile on the earth till every trace
Of winter be dissolved in air?

The showery month will scarcely prove
Sufficient for the task on hand,
To clear each river, stream and grove,
And ice and frost and snow remove,
And banish Winter from our land.

But should the despot have his sway,
And rob us of an early Spring,
Still nature's laws he must obey,
And take his flight in genial May,
To let us hear the warblers sing.

Down South kind Flora wails and longs
To visit us with pretty flowers,
And birds, forgetful of their wrongs,
Are practising their thankful songs,
To cheer us in our sonny bowers.