Skip to main content

Poetry Sunday: In May by John Burroughs

This poem caught my eye because of the first line. The Rose-breasted Grosbeaks have been passing through our yard this past week and they were accompanied by Scarlet Tanagers. It's always such a joy to see these wonderful birds as they hurry on their way to their breeding grounds. And all the other signs of spring are present as well. John Burroughs described it beautifully. Indeed, "all the world is glad with May."

In May

by John Burroughs 

When grosbeaks show a damask rose
Amid the cherry blossoms white,
And early robins' nests disclose
To loving eyes a joyous sight;

When columbines like living coals
Are gleaming 'gainst the lichened rocks,
And at the foot of mossy boles
Are young anemones in flocks;

When ginger-root beneath twin leaves
Conceals its dusky floral bell,
And showy orchid shyly weaves
In humid nook its fragrant spell;

When dandelion's coin of gold
Anew is minted on the lawn,
And apple trees their buds unfold,
While warblers storm the groves at dawn;

When such delights greet eye and ear,
Then strike thy tasks and come away:
It is the joy-month of the year,
And onward sweeps the tide of May.

When farmhouse doors stand open wide
To welcome in the balmy air,
When truant boys plunge in the tide,
And school-girls knots of violets wear;

When grapevines crimson in the shoot,
Like fin of trout in meadow stream,
And morning brings the thrush's flute
Where dappled lilies nod and dream;

When varied tints outline the trees,
Like figures sketched upon a screen,
And all the forest shows degrees
Of tawny red and yellow-green;

When purple finches sing and soar,
Then drop to perch on open wing,
With vernal gladness running o'er—
The feathered lyrist of the spring:

When joys like these salute the sense,
And bloom and perfume fill the day,
Then waiting long hath recompense,
And all the world is glad with May.

Comments

  1. A lovely verse capturing the essence of spring. Those Rose-breasted Grosbeaks and Scarlet Tanagers will soon be here, courting, and building their nests. They would not have been happy here yesterday. It was unseasonably cold with rain most of the day.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You had rose-breasted grosbeaks and scarlet tanagers in your yard? Aww! I wish they flew through my backyard. They're such cute birds. And the poem is lovely.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. They pass through here every spring and we get to enjoy them for a day or two before they move on. I'm sure they come back through during the fall but tend to be more inconspicuous then.

      Delete
  3. The rose breasted grosbeaks will show up in our New York State yard for a day (or two, at most) and then move on. I agree May is the joy-month. Can't wait!

    ReplyDelete
  4. We had Rose-breasted Grosbeaks in our yard this year, too. We had a Summer Tanager, but no Scarlet Tanagers. I feel like spring has arrived when I see the migratory birds pop in for a bit.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. They are a pretty reliable indicator that spring is really here.

      Delete
  5. My "wisdom," such as it is, is on display regularly here on my blog. I invite you to visit anytime. Thanks for the comment.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...