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?