IT is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before
The redbreast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
--Excerpt from William Wordsworth's "To My Sister"
of this English bard,
memorizing verses meticulously,
and then writing it down with ease,
so I could enjoy his words on the first
mild day in March centuries later.