Between bay window and hedge the impenetrable holly
srikes up again taut wintry vibrations.
The hellebore is there still,
half-buried; the crocuses are surviving.
From the front room I might be able to see
the coal fire's image planted in a circle
of cut-back rose bushes. Nothing is changed
by the strenght of this reflections.
Geoffrey Hill, Selected Poems, Penguin Books, 2006