We are safe in the kindly earth, and warm—
In the upper world there is sleet and storm.
Oh, wait for the robin’s true, clear note,
For the sound of a drifting wing afloat;
For the laughter bright of an April shower
To call and wake you, sweet Crocus flower.”
But brave-heart Crocus said never a word,
Nor paused to listen for note of bird,
Or laugh of raindrop * * * In rough green vest
And golden bonnet, herself she dressed