Vernal Equinox

Daughters, in the wind's boisterous roughing,

Pray the tickle's equal to the coat tearing,

And the wearing equal to the puffing,

As you match breath and tugging after the winter

In the thaw and the first heat of the sun's splinter.

In your first ramble, daughters, with your laughing

Loosed from the freeze when the grass is seeping,

Save your dimpled knees in the headstrong leaping.

And under his cloak, if you run with the north wind

When there is the smell of hibernation in him

And the black half frozen waters of a dam,

Watch for his cruelty, he traps the lamb.

Daughters under the birches in the green weeping,

In the rain and lightning of the west wind's keeping,

Daughters, does, with tawny flanks shy stamping,

Nibble his water-quick land with your hoofs tamping,

And dance, do not rest, or he'll have you sleeping.

And daughters whose hearts are going

Higher, higher with your wild hair blowing

Into his high riding giant's bellows,

Observe the tremble of the weeping willows.