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!