March Wind

Blow! blow, and tear Orion down;
Topple his great hounds out the sky;
And I shall wear about the town,
A cloak of silver bye and bye.

Set your wild trumpet to the dust,
And crack the old graves. High or low
Upset the world, if so you must,
To start one village rose to blow.

Tug at men's hearts. As with a knife
From every vain thing cut them free;
And break the littleness of life
As one breaks fagot on the knee.

Blow! blow my lover a strange dream;
Pierce his old thought of me in twain;
Make me so fair to him, I seem
A new Helen, down new Trojan lane.