And the rain since
And I have not heard
Leaf at the pane all winter
Nor a bird's wing beating as that was
I have not seen
All year your leaning face again
Since I have never wakened but that smell
Of wet pine bark was in the room.
Archibald MacLeish
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/de-votre-bonheur-il-ne-reste-que-vos-photos-sipsce/