If there comes a little thaw, Still the air is chill and raw, Here and there a patch of snow, Dirtier than the ground below, Dribbles down a marshy flood Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing, This is Spring.
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It must be terrible to bury someone you love in early May, when the ground is beginning to thaw and stretch and turn bright green and the smel...
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Thaw with her gentle persuasion is more powerful than Thor with his hammer. The one melts, the other breaks into pieces.
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If there comes a little thaw, Still the air is chill and raw, Here and there a patch of snow, Dirtier than the ground below, Dribbles down a marshy flood; Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing, 'This is Spring.'
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I think Morse's thing about being a poor policeman but a good detective is a very good description of him.
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One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring.
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