Morning Thanks

Garrison Keillor once said we'd all be better off if we all started the day by giving thanks for just one thing. I'll try.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Splendor in the grass


Last night, for the first time, I saw something emerald emerging from the countryside. It's been the world's longest winter out here, and it's hard to imagine anything that could have sung such sweet music to my soul than the lightest, palest sheen of spring green.

Garrison Keillor featured this Wordsworthian poem on Wednesday, a paean to spring.

Darlingly fitting. 

Written in March [well, April]

The cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!

Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plowboy is whooping- anon-anon:
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!


If I were Wordworth's teacher, I'd have to change rain to snow in that last line, but to heck with editing--all around, life is returning.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

today, April 13th, snow! I guess that means a little more green in the pasture next week.