Amid the iris and the rose, <br />The honeysuckle and the bay, <br />The wild earth for a moment goes <br />In dust or weed another way. <br /> <br /> <br />Small though its corner be, the weed <br />Will yet intrude its creeping beard; <br />The harsh blade and the hairy seed <br />Recall the brutal earth we feared. <br /> <br /> <br />And if no water touch the dust <br />In some far corner, and one dare <br />To breathe upon it, one may trust <br />The spectre on the summer air: <br /> <br /> <br />The risen dust alive with fire, <br />The fire made visible, a blur <br />Interrate, the pervasive ire <br />Of foxtail and of hoarhound burr.<br /><br />Yvor Winters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/much-in-little/
