Brown And Blue.

—Mrs. Merrill E. Gates (Mary C. Bishop).


OH, the brown, brown streams of March

Are the blue, blue streams of May,

And they lilt along with a lighter laugh

As they carol on their way.

They sprinkle the boulders brown

With golden, shining spray.

They are artists, gilding the old gray world,

These sun-lighted streams of May.


And the brown, brown woods of March

Are the green, green woods of May,

And they lift their arms with a freer swing

And shake out their pennons gay.

And the brown, dead world of March

Is the living world of to-day;

Life throbs and flushes and flashes out

In the color and fragrance of May.


And the heart I carried in March,

Under sullen clouds of gray,

Is another heart in its singing joy

Under blue, blue skies of May.

For sorrow has vanished like mist

Which fresh winds blow away,

And love is blooming with all bright things

In the light and glory of May.



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