February
A few tossed thrushes save
That carolled less than cried
Against the dying rave
And moan that never died,
No bird sang then; no thorn,
No tree was green beside
Them only never shorn –
The few by all the winds
And chill mutations born
Of Winter's many minds
Abused and whipt in vain –
Swarth yew and ivy kinds
And iron breeds germane.
~~
Ralph Hodgson (1871-1962)
from Poems, 1917
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]
Ralph Hodgson biography
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