A POEM FOR THE EQUINOX. Spring, at last. You can think of this poem by Wallace Stevens as being about the equinox. (poem via wikiquote)
The sun, that brave man,
Comes through boughs that lie in wait,
That brave man.
Green and gloomy eyes
In dark forms of the grass
Run away.
The good stars,
Pale helms and spiky spurs,
Run away.
Fears of my bed,
Fears of life and fears of death,
Run away.
That brave man comes up
From below and walks without meditation,
That brave man.
* “The Brave Man”