mythweaver2025

Bemoaning the current state of things is clearly a long tradition - a verse from William Wordsworth that reflects on the state of the world...


The world is too much with us; late and soon.
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in nature that is ours:
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This sea that bares her bosom to the moon:
The winds that will be howling at all hours.
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not - Great God! I'd rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

I walked past our shelf of poetry books this morning, somewhat dusty from neglect, and thought 'I should be using those - they might re-spark some creativity!' I grabbed the nearest collection 'Poetry from 1870-1914' and flicked ...

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Extract from 'Spring' by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

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 lightning 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.

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(glances out of the window)

Very pale blue sky, bright sunshine, and the glimmer of fading frost. Early spring, bringing promise to the world - well, my bit of it, anyway!