Straw-burdened
The pigeon heaves clumsily from the lawn
To thatch in some corniced nook
A secure couch for its young.
Once more has the drugged year
Lurched into Spring, dragged sullenly back
From the dull atrophy of dreams
To bend, delving, and bring
Forth from the stirred earth the restless bud
To wring from the oak bough's unwilling end
The green congealing of its blood.

—C.