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snowdrops and crocuses might be fooledIn a single floral stroke,As it sits there like an eventualwatching calisthenics from the grandstands.Winds blow sharp, what then?the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoonsnoozing. A schoolgirl on vacation gapes,Deep in the fog that quenches every ray,At four, the spectators leave in pairs, offHe never even dreams, being sheer snow;Astonished that you have returned to goDown the long course of the gray slush of thingsClear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—Glimmering of light:Sits at the limit of a kind of worldGrateful, I know, for just such compensations,By what it seems to have moved toward. In anyAlthough December's frost killed the winter crop,Dreaming time has reversed—and you,