'the snow is retreating and exposing the green grass that somehow over-wintered beneath.'

Philip Larkin wrote a poem First Sight. Only two verses.
`Lambs that learn to walk in snow, when their bleating clouds the air
Meet a vast unwelcome, know 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 ewe, her fleeces wetly caked, there lies
Hidden round them, waiting too, Earth's immesurable surprise,
They could not grasp it if they knew, what so soon will wake and grow
Utterly unlike the Snow.'