At the earliest ending of winter, br In March, a scrawny cry from outside br Seemed like a sound in his mind. br br He knew that he heard it, br A bird's cry, at daylight or before, br In the early March wind. br br The sun was rising at six, br No longer a battered panache above snow... br It would have been outside. br br It was not from the vast ventriloquism br Of sleep's faded papier-mache... br The sun was coming from the outside. br br That scrawny cry--It was br A chorister whose c preceded the choir. br It was part of the colossal sun, br br Surrounded by its choral rings, br Still far away. It was like br A new knowledge of reality.