Look at the grass-stem shawled
Against the nip of winter
In such a flimsy wrap.

O mark that little splinter,
So delicate and sad,
Which all the winter shook
Blue in its fibre shawl.

Look at the grass-stem.
Look.

Beyond a far-off sky
That sags with laggard snow
The grass exhilarates,
Its greenness to grow.