IV

It came with the year's first crocus

In a world of winds and snows —

Because it would, because it must,

Because of life and time and lust;

And a year's first crocus served my turn

As well as the year's first rose.

The March rack hurries and hectors,

The March dust heaps and blows;

But the primrose flouts the daffodil,

And here's the patient violet still;

And the year's first crocus brought me luck,

So hey for the year's first rose!