It is too long to
quote in
full here, but one has only to think of a few of the powerful and particular images that situate the joy of the «swinger of birches» within the real and fallen world: the ice like broken glass, the trees
bent by weather, the face that «burns and tickles with the cobwebs / Broken across it,» and the eye watering «From a twig's having lashed across it open.»