Today (June 8) is the
death anniversary of Gerard Manley Hopkins [1844-1889], a British poet whose
greatness lay buried beneath the smokescreens of Victorian sensibilities. Spring and Fall is one of his many
exquisite poems. It is addressed to a
little girl, Margaret, who is sad seeing the leaves fall in the season of
autumn.
Are you crying over the
falling leaves, Margaret? The poet asks
the girl. A time will come when you won’t
weep over the falling leaves because life will teach you about other much more
significant falls. Fall is the blight
man was born for, says the poet.
O little girl, how
innocent you are! Your innocence is the
beauty of the spring season with its fresh life and enchanting beauty. Spring is the promise of new life. Dreams bloom on the twigs. You are one of those numerous dreams.
But you are destined to
realise that autumn will follow soon.
The leaves and blooms will all fall.
That’s their inevitable destiny. Life
will teach you those inevitable lessons. Whole worlds will collapse before you like
the falling leaves. Watching the world
collapse, watching dreams wither, your heart will grow cold and you will learn
not to weep over them anymore. That’s
also a destiny. Inevitable destiny.
Yes, Margaret, you are
weeping over the falling leaves in Goldengrove.
Soon you will realise that it is you, yourself, that you are mourning
for. “Sorrow’s springs are the same,”
the poet knows. The human heart! Nay, the very human life!
PS. The text of the poem:
Márgarét, áre you
gríeving
Over Goldengrove
unleaving?
Leáves 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.
Enjoyed reading the poem and your interpretation. Reading such intriguing and meaningful poems always make me feel inferior of my writings. But I do feel motivated to write like them :)
ReplyDeleteGenuine life makes us philosophical even without our realisation. And the philosophy will colour your writing... Meaning's springs are the same ☺
Deletewow! Such a beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing it and also for your interpretation. An amazing post :)
ReplyDeleteGlad it struck a chord with you.
DeleteWise words beautifully put.
ReplyDeleteThank you bringing it to us.
My pleasure. ☺
DeleteBeautiful poem....Reminds me of Yeats's lines whatever is begotten, born and dies.
ReplyDeleteDies having experienced decay beforehand 😄
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