Read the excerpt from “Birches” by Robert Frost. When I see birches bend to left and right Across the line of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen themLoaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust— Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.Which lines describe the ice wrapping the tree branches?