Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/326

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298
THE MONTHS:
Braving the cold for our delight,
   Both white,
   Both tender.

[A rattling of doors and windows; branches seen without, tossing violently to and fro.]

How the doors rattle, and the branches sway!
Here's brother March comes whirling on his way
With winds that eddy and sing:—

[She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and discloses March hastening up, both hands full of violets and anemones.]

February.

Come, show me what you bring;
For I have said my say, fulfilled my day,
And must away.

March.

[Stopping short on the threshold.]

I blow an arouse
Through the world's wide house
To quicken the torpid earth:
Grappling I fling
Each feeble thing,
But bring strong life to the birth.
I wrestle and frown,
And topple down;
I wrench, I rend, I uproot;
Yet the violet