Hope springs eternal

According to the Huffington Post “A Creative Mind Is A Wandering Mind​​” It’s a comforting thought when your mind is jumping from one thing to another like a grasshopper.

Mine has been darting about between snatches of remembered poetry and a rag bag of information about plagues, the coming of Spring and the peculiar quality of hope. It was a half remembered poem that set it off and now it’s spinning like a top.

The poem was written by Thomas Nashe sometime around 1592, the same time as one of the great London Plagues. It was bubonic plague then, but every bit as terrifying and lethal as Covid-19 is now. At least 15,000 people died of the plague in London alone, theatres were closed and doctors wore terrifying masks like this one. Plus ça change.

The one comfort I take from all this anxiety inducing information, is that poetry endures and continues to delight through the centuries and Spring comes round every year to lift our hearts, no matter what might be happening to us. Which brings me back to my original poet, Thomas Nashe circa 1592.

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit

This old wife will be very happy to sit in the sun again and is already being cheered by the flowers in her garden and her growing colony of fish in the pool!

Happy Springtime all of you!

2 thoughts on “Hope springs eternal

  1. Oh, Beryl, your bluebells are out, how lovely. Probably because you are a bit further South than us! It is a glorious sunny morning and we have friends coming down from Norfolk to have lunch in our new gazebo. Looks like the Oak will be before the Ash. Hugs to you, dear friend.


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