Welcome back to the Daily Poem. I'm David Kern, and today is Tuesday, February 23, 2021.

Today's poem is by Philip Larkin. He was an English poet who lived from August 9, 1922 to December 2nd, 1985.

He was a very accomplished writer. He wrote several collections of poetry, including The North Ship and the Girl in Winter.

And he also edited the Oxford Book of 20th Century English First, which came out in 1973.

Interestingly, he also contributed to The Daily Telegraph, an English newspaper,

as it's jazz critic from 1961 to 1971,

and you can get his book of jazz writing called All That Jazz, A Record Diary of 1961 and 1971,

which came out in 85.

He received many honors, including the Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry.

And according to Wikipedia, he was offered but declined the position of Poet Laureate in 1984.

The poem that I'm going to read today is called First Sight.

It's a pretty short poem, only 14 lines or so. And it seems like the right poem for a time when our country has been beset

by a winter storm, almost coast to coast. Many people are buried under and dealing with

the after effects of this winter weather. And so it seemed like the right time to read this poem.

So here is Philip Larkin's first sight.

Lambs that learn to walk in snow when they're bleeding clouds the air

meet a vast unwelcome, no 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 yew, her fleeces wetly caked, their lies hidden round them, waiting to Earth's immeasurable surprise.

They could not grasp it if they knew what so soon will wake and grow, utterly unlike the snow.

I find this to be a lovely little poem, beautiful poem.

I find it interesting that Larkin himself was known for being kind of, I don't know what the phrase is, serious, I guess.

He kept to himself, didn't love to be in the public eye, didn't want to be

...