Move him into the sun Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering…

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?

Use the lines above to answer this question;

The theme of the poem is