Poem-of-the-Week

[Here's an example of the kind of thing that could appear in the FPL blog as a regular feature. It would require keeping a bag of candy in the reference desk so appropriate rewards could be given out. Feel free to edit or delete as you see fit.]

Here's a timely poem for us in the month of March. The first ten people who come to the information desk with with the name of the author (maybe shown in a book) will get a piece of chocolate (to be eaten outside), so start searching! You can't leave the answer as a comment; you have to come to the desk in person to receive your reward.

TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,
Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,
Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and angles
Round the shuddering house, threating of winter and death.

But in my heart I feel the life of the wood and the meadow
Thrilling the pulses that own kindred with fibres that lift
Bud and blade to the sunward, within the inscrutable shadow,
Deep in the oak's chill core, under the gathering drift.

Nay, to earth's life in mine some prescience, or dream, or desire
(How shall I name it aright?) comes for a moment and goes—
Rapture of life ineffable, perfect—as if in the brier,
Leafless there by my door, trembled a sense of the rose.