Poetry Sunday: Spring by Edna St. Vincent Millay
And so April has come again. I suspect most of us feel quite positive about that. April seems to betoken new beginnings. Nature itself seems optimistic as she shows us "the redness of little leaves opening stickily."
Edna St. Vincent Millay felt quite dour about the month, however, as evidenced by her poem "Spring." It is not enough, she says, that "April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers." I beg to differ, Edna. I think it is quite enough.
by Edna St. Vincent MillayTo what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.