Spring and Fall
to a young child
to a young child
Margaret, are you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
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I post this today in memory of Jim (the brother of my dear friend Jean) who passed away from cancer today. It is the poem that made me acutely aware as a teenager of the reality of our mortality. Jim's life ended too soon, like many others I know who have died of cancer. He suffered a lot but now he is at peace.
It is not true, as the poem says, that as we get older, we adopt a 'colder' attitude toward the reality of mortality and the death of loved ones. We may accept (albeit unwillingly) that we are mortal, but we grieve the loss of loved ones and the eventuality of our own passing. Hopkins acknowledges this further on in the poem when he says that 'you will weep and know why'. We do know why. A mystery, this life. Moments of true happiness and moments of intense sadness and grief. I lost my own brother almost eight years ago. I still remember the shock of that day and of hearing the news. I doubt I will ever forget it. His death and the subsequent family dramas changed my life in ways I still don't completely fathom. I just know that I loved my brother and I miss him a lot. I will miss seeing Jim as well when I visit NY--there was always a cheery hello, a smile and a conversation. He played in a rock band together with three of his sons, and they were quite good. I was sometimes able to join Jean and go to listen to them at a local pub. I know his sons will always remember that.
