34. Seeds

The seeds I sowed -

For weeks unseen -

Have pushed up pygmy

Shoots of green;

So frail you'd think

The tiniest stone

Would never let

A glimpse be shown.

But no; a pebble

Near them lies,

At least a cherry-stone

In size,

Which that mere sprout

Has heaved away,

To bask in sunshine,

See the day.

                 Walter de la Mare