The End

Spring in Giverny, Claude Monet
Spring in Giverny, Claude Monet

Here is one last poem to celebrate National Poetry Month. Don’t forget to leave comments or suggestions so you can be entered (or entered again) to win a delightful book of poetry. I’ll announce a winner on Friday.  There are so many good poems, it’s hard to choose THE LAST ONE. Happily, being an optimist, I look forward to many more Aprils, and many more opportunities to share great poems with you all. So here’s one by Hopkins, because I love him, and because it’s celebratory, and because it’s spring. (PS, Hey poetry nerds– is it me, or is there some slight caesura in this poem?)

Spring
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Nothing is so beautiful as spring–
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden.–Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, they choice and worthy the winning.

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