The cold moon slumps to hopeless horizons.
All seems lost, but the scorched tomb yawns empty.
The guards have run away. And now the sun's
First cool glow throws a starry confetti
Of bright planets into the cat-stretching east.
People can't believe what's ordinary.
They're stunned that most is defeated by least.
They slap their own faces, yet still they see
Loss beat a win. They thought that they could mow 
Truth like grass, and own grim lawns of tamed brown
But Spring came skipping. The grasses did grow.
Then terrible tyrants tantrumed. Each frown
Was a proof this old saying has meaning:
You can ignore spring, but you can't stop its greening.