Yet another April blizzard descended yesterday on the North Country. According to calendars and the returning birds, spring has arrived. But we know it only as a rumor. Shove-able snow is not the work of spring.
It has been awhile since I have done a poetry review at MontanaWriter. I continue daily to read and write and think about poetry and language. The long winter has had me returning to the comfort of poets and poems that I am most familiar with. Poets like Gerard Manley Hopkins.
Here is a poem about spring as spring is suppose to be by Hopkins.
Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –
Listening with a pencil and my ear, these are the lines I marked:
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens
A Hopkins’ line is like no other… alliterative, difficult, and ethereal. In fact, to quote these lines, a Hopkins’ line is, “long and lovely and lush.”
Poetry is the closest thing we have to magic language, the language we use to summon spirits and gods and God himself. Hopkins the priest knew this as well as any poet. His long, lovely, and lush lines are born in his superb understanding of this reality. It is why I so often find myself returning to his poetry.