“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