Take all the months: February, December, Even the September sun Leave them out to spoil and cry To see them so. Watch all the umber, oval arcs Of Autumn cross the trees As leaves fall and drift; Fall again. Wound the world to bleed over Winter. Bow to the solstice's revival. Because Spring greens; Glows and toils, Whilst all the pretty knives Come up from the earth To grow, to die.