MID-WINTER WAKING

Stirring suddenly from long hibernation,

I knew myself once more a poet

Guarded by timeless principalities

Against the worm of death, this hillside haunting;

And presently dared open both my eyes.

O gracious, lofty, shone against from under,

Back-of-the-mind-far clouds like towers;

And you, sudden warm airs that blow

Before the expected season of new blossom,

While sheep still gnaw at roots and lambless go--

Be witness that on waking, this mid-winter,

I found her hand in mine laid closely

Who shall watch out the Spring with me.

We stared in silence all around us

But found no winter anywhere to see.

[From Work in Hand (1942)]