In March (By Leonard Clark)

At winter’s end when hungry foxes sleep 

A few uneasy hours in earthy dens, 

And shivering hares squat in their forms, and sheep

At lambing time bed down in farmyard pens; 

Then stiff with cold in secret garden holes 

Thin dormice lie, curled up with drowsy moles.

Before the frosty darkness falls outside, 

There flit on faintly coloured wing a pair 

Of chaffinches who on the branches hide, 

For they have found a quiet lodging where 

They, too, can settle down this night and rest, 

And in the morning start to build their nest.

And in the farmhouse now our yawning cat, 

After a busy day begins to tire, 

And lies there warm and sleek and fat. 

Stretched out beside the blazing kitchen fire; 

Dreaming and purring she is well away, 

It is the ending of a chill March day.

So wild and tame have skies above their heads 

Where all the stars of early springtime shine. 

They go contented to their peaceful beds. 

And I am full of sleep and go to mine.