Philip Larkin — First Sights

Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds into the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro All they find, outside the fold, Is a wretched width of cold. As they wait beside the ewe, Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies Hidden round them, waiting too, Earth's immeasurable surprise. They could not grasp it if they knew What will soon wake and grow Utterly unlike the snow.