A Sonnet On Spring Bulbs
Still sleeping safe beneath the ice-bound soil
Lie bulbs, embedded deep within the earth,
Awaiting, so expectantly, the birth
Of brave green growths, which frost can never spoil
With all its bitterness, for they have strength
To forge on upwards, tempted by the light
That faintly floats above them in the height
Of afternoon, now day extends its length.
These stems will prosper, swell and start the race
To reach, at last, the moment we desire,
After their struggle with harsh winter’s hours,
When they will garnish gardens with the grace
Of golden daffodil, red tulip’s fire
And pure-white snowdrop, finest of the flowers.