Read the poem and answer the question Move him into the sun Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown Always it woke him even in France Until this morning and this snow If anything might rouse him now This kind old sun will know Think how it wakes the seeds Woke,once, the clays of a cold star Are limbs, so dear achieved, are sides, Full-nerved still warm too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all? The dominant images are associated with
