Bold March came riding storm clouds in today
To place his farewell kiss on winter's cheek.
He pondered why he willingly gave sway.
Though loathe to leave, he yielded, strangely-meek,
With countenance benign yet sadly-bleak.
Now he would boldly rule--no soft replies,
But blusteringly-tempestuous he would speak.
Departing winter, old and season-wise,
Knew March must soon give way to April's sunny skies.
