vårvers

The Wind is sewing with needles of rain.

With shining needles of rain

It stitches into the thin

Cloth of earth. In,

In, in, in.

Oh, the wind has often sewed with me.

One, two, three.

Spring must have fine things

To wear like other springs.

Of silken green the grass must be

Embroidered. One and two and three.

Then every crocus must be made

So subtly as to seem afraid

Of lifting colour from the ground;

And after crocuses the round

Heads of tulips, and all the fair

Intricate garb that Spring will wear.

The wind must sew with needles of rain,

With shining needles of rain,

Stitching into the thin

Cloth of earth, in,

In, in, in,

For all the springs of futurity.

One, two, three.

                Hazel Hill

Att läsa om Hazel Hall får mig att tänka på romaner, ofta flickböcker, från förra sekelskiftet. Av oklar orsak* kom hon från sina tidiga tonår tillbringa återstoden av sitt korta liv i rullstol. Ett liv som hon kom att ägna åt att handarbeta och skriva poesi sittandes vid ett fönster med utsikt åt gatan.

* somliga säger att det var sviterna efter scharlakansfeber, andra säger att det var efter ett fall.