Worlds of Wanwood....

This poem has been rolling around in my head for a week or so now. I usually remember it in autumn because its colours are more Fall than Spring. I know, often the very first sign of Spring is a haze of yellow, as the leaf buds swell, however, this is never as spectacular as Autumn's palette.

Every year seems to go out in a blaze of glory. Nature is so beautiful, just before she dies. Would that we had the same fate. What if we were born old and grew young - an eerie thought. Maybe the only way to capture this "fanfare" in our own lives is to create as much excitement as we can before the frost.

The poet is one of my favourites - Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Spring & Fall: to a young child

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Have a colourful day!!