Listen, the wind is still,
And far away in the night —
See! The uplands fill
With a running light.
Open the doors. It is warm;
And where the sky was clear —
Look! The head of a storm
That marches here!
Come under the trembling hedge —
Fast, although you fumble...
There! Did you hear the edge
of winter crumble?
Mark Van Doren, 1924
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