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Primavera in the North

by
 She has danced for leagues and leagues, 
Over thorns and thistles, 
Prancing to a tune of Griegg's 
Performed on willow whistles.
Antelopes behold her, dazed, Velvet-eyed, and furry; Polar flowers, crackle-glazed, Snap beneath her hurry.
In a wig of copper wire, A gown of scalloped gauzes, She capers like a flame of fire Over Arctic mosses.
All her tears have turned to birds, All her thoughts of dolour Paint the snow with scarlet words And traceries of colour.

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