Sandhill Crane by Tara Tanaka Audubon Photography Awards
Sandhill cranes have been on the move north for several weeks. Now that some robins spend the winter with us, sandhills have become a more reliable sign of changing seasons. Or as Dale Bowman says, “I never thought sandhill cranes would be a more certain sign of spring than baseball.” (Chicago Sun-Times, March 9)
Spring following winter has always been cause for celebration in northern latitudes. Missing spring training baseball is pretty small stuff in trying times like these. I've picked poems written two centuries apart that offer reflection on taking pleasure in spring in the midst of human troubles.
Not one of Wordsworth's best known poems, Lines Written in Early Spring is from his first collection, Lyrical Ballads, from 1798 when he was not yet 30 years old. We shouldn't need much help to understand these lines in Wordsworth's typical plain language. Even so, you can find several critical takes on the web.
Lines Written in Early Spring William Wordsworth
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played:
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the least motion which they made,
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
The Poetry Foundation will take you to more poems by Wordsworth and a collection of more spring poems.
Snow Goose by Danny Hancock/Audubon Photography Awards
A search by title for Barbara Crooker's poem will lead you to its presentation on several inspirational style web pages. While similar in tone to Wordsworth's poem, Crooker's conclusion seems to be quite different.
Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself Barbara Crooker
like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.
"Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself," by Barbara Crooker, from Radiance. © Word Press, 2005. For another change of season The Poetry Foundation offers And Now Its September in a selection of Crooker's poems.
I think it unlikely that Wordsworth's Lines could be read as inspirational. I'll not offer any other thoughts on my own reading of these two verses, other than that I like them equally.
As always, comments and questions welcome.
johnelliott4@gmail.com
