hapgood

If fields of winter freshmen were
A heavy fall of virgin snow,
Then I would be a shoveler
Of ashes. Rhythmically, I'd sow
My cinders, scatter broadcast flake
On flake of petaled grey on white.
Piously, I'd know my wake
Was ugly, but a harbinger
Of fructifying summer things,
Like Mercury's touch and Flora's flings
In Primavera's wanton rite.

(Robert Hapgood, "Corrupting the Youth," in College English, volume 18, number 8, May 1957, p. 400)