But These Things Also

BUT these things also are Spring's-- On banks by the roadside the grass Long-dead that is greyer now Than all the Winter it was;

The shell of a little snail bleached In the grass; chip of flint, and mite Of chalk; and the small birds' dung In splashes of purest white:

All the white things a man mistakes For earliest violets Who seeks through Winter's ruins Something to pay Winter's debts,

While the North blows, and starling flocks By chattering on and on Keep their spirits up in the mist, And Spring's here, Winter's not gone.