March marched in with armies of bright colors
Sudden and secret blooms, like love.
It let itself in, this old gloomy earth,
Brushing fits of rainy winds, only to cleanse the grey dust of winter.
And time seems to fly past, without trace or mark of notes
That kept work or job done,
I consider myself a bit late behind schedule,
But still I'm ahead of the sun.
March came in and hence I knew winter was over,
But the most thing is that I tenderly miss December,
When I know it will give March a more lovely place to come.