- Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
- Man never is, but always to be blessed:
- The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
- Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
I know these lines are not about spring, but I’ve been hoping for spring to come for so long that when the words got a bit jumbled in my brain, I thought of this poem. Pope has me totally confused with his big words all thrown into four lines seemingly at random, but I gather that he too, was waiting, hoping, for something.
I thought maybe the words would make more sense if they were realigned a bit to say:
Hoping for spring eternally is this human beast,
Just when she thinks it’s coming, the day warms up the least.
Her soul is uneasy, inactive too long,
Oh why is the weatherman always wrong?
— Anneli W.(without) Hope, from “A Messy-Essay of a Woman”
I’m hopeful though. Spring is a time of new beginnings, a time for love. And here are two lips just for you. I found this tu-lip in my garden today.
And here is a shrub that thinks it is quintessential to bringing spring. The quince bush. I started out with one plant but it has definitely had at least quints since I planted it.
And now, here comes my punishment for being so pessimistic about the late arrival of spring. No, that is not Mount Fuji. This mountain of a cloud came to tower over my house just to remind me not to get too happy about the bit of (cold) sunshine we had today. No mountain is hiding under that cloud. It is all rainwater, waiting for me to say the word when I want my flowers and my new cedar hedge watered. Notice the cloud is white though? That’s so I don’t lose heart altogether about spring’s impending arrival.
May it come soooooooooooon!