Take back the leaf from the emblazoning air
And fold it close within its narrow shard;
Or if you will, go beat the hedges bare,
Darken the earth till it be cold and hard.
Grind into dust the young green budding things
Raised from the dust by wind and sun; and after
Take from your lips their whispering freight of wings,
Lest they should break your heart with sudden laughter.
Better for earth to slumber, out of the rain –
Out of the spring, as long as it can crust
Itself and you against the treacherous pain
Of quickening life that towers in the dust;
Tell your eyes to close on the rising glow,
And let your heart lie numb in the chilled snow.
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