It's the beginning again . . . that is brave! From the cloistered grave silence of winter come tumbling
the little new seeds fumbling with the mysteries of earth they clamor for birth as she feeds
them the wind and the rain. Her wise body glows with the Wisdom that sows little seeds with needs that strain
the hard crusts of earth, resent bars that temper the passion to peer at the stars!
Spring is the subject here, but the speaker treats it less as a pleasant season than as a brave new start. The opening line says so directly: beginning again takes courage. After the "cloistered grave" silence of winter, tiny seeds come tumbling out, awkward and eager, "fumbling" toward life and "clamoring" to be born. Earth itself is pictured as a nurturing female presence who feeds them wind and rain, and her body seems to glow with a wisdom that knows what it is doing.
The mood is warm, energetic, and a little urgent. The seeds are not calm; their needs "strain" against the hard crust of the soil. The final couplet widens the idea. The seeds resent the bars that hold them back, and that reaching "to peer at the stars" suggests something bigger than gardening: any living thing's longing to rise, grow, and be renewed, even when something heavy presses down.