The rock-like mud unfroze a little and rills
Ran and sparkled down each side of the road
Under the catkins wagging in the hedge.
But earth would have her sleep out, spite of the sun;
Nor did I value that thin gilding beam
More than a pretty February thing
Till I came down to the old Manor Farm,
This brief line sums up the essence of the poem. The two balanced clauses state the opposing forces; the weak sun isn’t sufficient to end the winter.
The Manor Farm