The crocus, while the days are dark, Unfolds its saffron sheen; At April's touch, the crudest bark Discovers gems of green. Then sleep the seasons, full of might; While slowly swells the pod And rounds the peach, and in the night The mushroom bursts the sod. The Winter falls; the frozen rut Is bound with silver bars; The snow-drift heaps against the hut, And night is pierced with stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TIME THE HANGMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL, 1861 by LUCY LARCOM JOHN PELHAM by JAMES RYDER RANDALL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 54. LOVE'S FATALITY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |