A Fragment

March month is come ! With rush and roar
He hammers at the quivering door ;
The forest bends beneath the rain,
The harsh hail crackles on the pane.

But, foe more fierce than March is nigh,
A wilder weapon beats the sky ;
A deadlier echo cleaves the vale,
Than crackling roof or pattering hail.

The storm is loud, but not alone :
That shout was Battle's warrior-tone !
The voice that shook yon stormy sky
Was haughty England's signal-cry !