THAW
A FRAGMENT
This winter's white is no more strong than snow
Against the red of spring in buds and beams,
In sun and shoot refilled with fluent fire
And heart of lusty labour and large life.
Already the lean hoar-frost is deflowered
Of half its breathless blossom of thin leaves
Wrought false on glass, and that glass not so frail;
Already the split ice yearns, and now the thaw
Begins on every river and unsealed well;
The snow shudders against the sun, the hills
Warm them with morning. What shall noon do next?
Against the red of spring in buds and beams,
In sun and shoot refilled with fluent fire
And heart of lusty labour and large life.
Already the lean hoar-frost is deflowered
Of half its breathless blossom of thin leaves
Wrought false on glass, and that glass not so frail;
Already the split ice yearns, and now the thaw
Begins on every river and unsealed well;
The snow shudders against the sun, the hills
Warm them with morning. What shall noon do next?
1871.