The Lambification of the Lion

THE BALTIMORE EVENING SUN

When March comes like a lion,

roaring,

You know the month will not be boring.

He lashes out with naughty breezes

Lifting skirts above some kneeses.

He whoops and swoops and bellows

raucous,

As windy as a Senate caucus.

He'll coax some sailors out

with bunkum,

And then he'll lift a wave and

dunk 'em.

He'll gather paper from each street

And leave the paving looking neat,

While every bush, in branch and trunk,

He drapes with cloth and paper junk.

But we'll forgive his antics wild

While he is young and still a child;

For soon, when jonquils, shy and dear,

Tell Maryland that April's near,

He'll change his style and

settle down --

A gentleman from sole to crown.

Then March, transformed by

gifts divine,

Will stop behaving leonine,

And don a soft white coat to greet,

In Baltimore on any street,

Dear April, maiden bright and fair,

Who perfumes all our city air.

And March will meet her like a lamb

With daffodils in either hand.

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