A Bluebird in March I (When the sun shines upon the crust of March)

When the sun shines upon the crust of March In the bare wood, how blue the shadows lie Along the snow between the gray tree-boles! And where the muffled stream runs, bluer still Between its snowy banks edged with frail ice, The silvery oaks and sugar maples stand Like a faint tracing on a lacquer tray, Or a worn pattern on old Sheffield plate. The strong sun melts the snow in open places; A calling crow flies over, trailing north His silent shadow down the wooded slope; And then to bring the winter scene to life, Etched on the memory like a haunting smile A bluebird flashes to an apple bough.