Poems — Sonnet - In February

SONNET--IN FEBRUARY

Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn, Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers, And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers.

A poet's face asleep is this grey morn.

Now in the midst of the old world forlorn A mystic child is set in these still hours.

I keep this time, even before the flowers, Sacred to all the young and the unborn;

To all the miles and miles of unsprung wheat, And to the Spring waiting beyond the portal, And to the future of my own young art,