April 5, 1974 by Richard Wilbur The air was soft, the ground still cold. In the dull pasture where I strolled Was something I could not believe. Dead grass appeared to slide and heave, Though still too frozen-flat to stir, And rocks to twitch and all to blur. What was this rippling of the land? Was matter getting out of hand And making free with natural law, I stopped and blinked, and then I saw A fact as eerie as a dream. There was a subtle flood of steam Moving upon the face of things. It came from standing pools and springs And what of snow was still around; It came of winter’s giving ground So that the freeze was coming out, As when a set mind, blessed by doubt, Relaxes into mother-wit. Flowers, I said, will come of it. "April 5, 1974" by Richard Wilbur from Collected Poems |
Sunday, April 5, 2015
April 5, 1974', Richard Wilbur
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment