The Year’s Awakening
How do you know that the pilgrim trackAlong the belting zodiacSwept by the sun in his seeming roundsIs traced by now to the Fishes’ boundsAnd into the Ram, when weeks of cloudHave wrapt the sky in a clammy shroud,And never as yet a tinct of springHas shown in the Earth’s apparelling;O vespering bird, how do you know,How do you know?
How do you know, deep underground,Hid in your bed from sight and sound,Without a turn in temperature,With weather life can scarce endure,That light has won a fraction’s strength,And day put on some moments’ length,Whereof in merest rote will come,Weeks hence, mild airs that do not numb;O crocus root, how do you know,How do you know?
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