Friday, January 3, 2003
A Touch Of Nature Comments
Rating: ★2.6
When first the crocus thrusts its point of gold
Up through the still snow-drifted garden mould,
And folded green things in dim woods unclose
Their crinkled spears, a sudden tremor goes
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7/22/2025 8:57:45 AM # 1.0.0
Superb poem, To every wild-born thing that thrills and blows. Sitting beside this crumbling sea-coal fire, Here in the city's ceaseless roar and din, Far from the brambly paths I used to know,