Act 4 — WINTER NOONTIDE
Reading edition
I go forth now, but not to fill my lap With violets and white sorrel of the wood; This is a winter noon; and I may hap Upon a few dry sticks, and fire is good. A quickening shrewdness edges the fore wind; Some things stand clear in this dismantled hour Which deep-leaved June had hidden; earth is kind, The heaven is wide, and fire shall be my flower.