It's not the case, though some might wish it so <br />Who from a window watch the blizzard blow <br /> <br />White riot through their branches vague and stark, <br />That they keep snug beneath their pelted bark. <br /> <br />They take affliction in until it jells <br />To crystal ice between their frozen cells, <br /> <br />And each of them is inwardly a vault <br />Of jewels rigorous and free of fault, <br /> <br />Unglimpsed until in May it gently bears <br />A sudden crop of green-pronged solitaires.<br /><br />Richard Wilbur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/orchard-trees-january/
