It’s not the case, though some might wish it so
Who from a window watch the blizzard blow
White riot through their branches vague and stark,
That they keep snug beneath their pelted bark.
They take affliction in until it jells
To crystal ice between their frozen cells,
And each of them is inwardly a vault
Of jewels rigorous and free of fault,
Unglimpsed until in May it gently bears
A sudden crop of green-pronged solitaires.
(Richard Wilbur)
More Poetry from Richard Wilbur:
- Love Calls Us To The Things Of This World (Richard Wilbur Poems)
- A World Without Objects is a Sensible Emptiness (Richard Wilbur Poems)
- Boy at the Window (Richard Wilbur Poems)
- June Light (Richard Wilbur Poems)
- A Hole In The Floor (Richard Wilbur Poems)
- The Riddle (Richard Wilbur Poems)