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March is the third month of the year in the Julian and Gregorian calendars, and one of the seven months which are 31 days long. March in the Northern Hemisphere is the seasonal equivalent of September in the Southern Hemisphere. In the Northern hemisphere, the beginning of the meteorological spring is 1 March. In the Southern hemisphere, the beginning of the meteorological autumn is 1 March.
- For quotes on the form of mobility, see Marching
Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical QuotationsEdit
- Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 494.
- March. Its tree, Juniper. Its stone, Bloodstone. Its motto, "Courage and strength in times of danger."
- Old Saying.
- Ah, March! we know thou art
Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats,
And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!
- Helen Hunt Jackson, Verses March.
- Slayer of the winter, art thou here again?
O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh!
The bitter wind makes not the victory vain,
Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.
- William Morris, March, Stanza 1.
- In fierce March weather
White waves break tether,
And whirled together
At either hand,
Like weeds uplifted,
The tree-trunks rifted
In spars are drifted,
Like foam or sand.
- Algernon Charles Swinburne, Four Songs of Four Seasons, Stanza 11.
- With rushing winds and gloomy skies
The dark and stubborn Winter dies:
Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries,
Bidding her earliest child arise;
- Bayard Taylor, March.
- All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call;
It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all;
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,
And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.
- Alfred Tennyson, The May Queen, Conclusion.
- Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.
- John Greenleaf Whittier, March.
- Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The Ploughboy is whooping—anon—anon!
There's joy in the mountains:
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone.
- William Wordsworth, Written in March.