Here you will find the Poem February of poet Ralph Hodgson
A few tossed thrushes save That carolled less than cried Against the dying rave And moan that never died, No bird sang then; no thorn, No tree was green beside Them only never shorn - The few by all the winds And chill mutations born Of Winter's many minds Abused and whipt in vain - Swarth yew and ivy kinds And iron breeds germane.
