Poetry Project - Spring and Fall

I think about this poem a lot. I've always loved it, and I've had it committed to memory for years. My mom told me once that she wanted it read at her funeral. But by the time she passed away (a little more than a year and a half ago), she'd converted to Eastern Orthodox, which has its own service traditions that don't allow for such.

Still, when I think of these words, I think of her. And always have.

Spring and Fall
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

to a young child

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as 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 will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heard heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.



"Autumn" by simplethrill is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0