Ash-boughs

Not of all my eyes see, wandering on the world,     Is anything a milk to the mind so, so sighs deep     Poetry to it, as a tree whose boughs break in the sky.     Say it is ashboughs: whether on a December day and furled     Fast r they in clammyish lashtender combs creep     Apart wide and new-nestle at heaven most high.     They touch heaven, tabour on it; how their talons sweep     The smouldering enormous winter welkin! May     Mells blue and snowwhite through them, a fringe and fray     Of greenery: it is old earth's groping towards the steep     Heaven whom she childs us by.     (Variant from line 7.) b.     They touch, they tabour on it, hover on it[; here, there hurled],     With talons sweep     The smouldering enormous winter welkin. [Eye,     But more cheer is when] May     Mells blue with snowwhite through their fringe and fray     Of greenery and old earth gropes for, grasps at steep     Heaven with it whom she childs things by.