“All the white things a man mistakes/For earliest violets/Who seeks through Winter’s ruins/Something to pay Winter’s debts”

 

But these things also are Spring’s

On banks by the roadside the grass

Long-dead that is greyer now

Than all the Winter it was;

 

The shell of a little snail bleached

In the grass; chip of flint, and mite

Of chalk; and the small bird’s dung

In splashes of purest white:

 

All the white things a man mistakes

For earliest violets

Who seeks through Winter’s ruins

something to pay Winter’s debts

 

While the North blows, and starling flocks

By chattering on and on

Keeping their spirits up in the mist,

And Spring’s here, Winter’s not gone.

 

 

 

Poetry Ptuesday – But These Things Also by Edward Thomas
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