Magazine | March 19, 2018, Issue

Poetry

(REUTERS\Regis Duvignau)

SOMETIMES THE FROST COMES EARLY

Sometimes the frost comes early when it might
Have held its crystallizing of the leaves.
But it views warmth as pain, and so believes
It must be kind and decimate the night.
I view the wilted shrouds in morning light
That once were strong, with sap-coursed veins alert
To sun, to rain. But a particular hurt
Like frost, inflexible, is structured tight
As iron bands, and nothing can assert
Itself against the freezing of the sap,
Which stunts the stem and leaf, and leaves a gap
That cannot soon be filled, until the dirt
Warms in another season, and the sight
Of seedlings once again can put things right.

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Letters

Rejecting Despair While admitting that William F. Buckley Jr. himself would probably have a more optimistic take, Richard Brookhiser writes: “The conservative movement is no more. Its destroyers are Donald Trump ...
The Week

The Week

• We don’t even want public-school teachers teaching our kids. • Historically, the National Rifle Association has derived its political power from two sources. The first is the broad popularity of ...
Poetry

Poetry

Sometimes the frost comes early when it might have held its crystallizing of the leaves.
Happy Warrior

Brushing Alone

Your views on Delta Airlines and Hertz rental cars now correspond to how compelling you found the cable-news appearances of a survivor of the Parkland school shooting.

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