To my sister

It’s 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
O my sister, 'tis a wish of mine
Now that our morning meal is done
Make haste, your morning task resign
Come forth and feel the sun