A Poem for Every Spring Day Read online

  When fishes flew and forests walked

  And figs grew upon thorn,

  Some moment when the moon was blood

  Then surely I was born.

  With monstrous head and sickening cry

  And ears like errant wings,

  The devil’s walking parody

  Of all four-footed things.

  The tattered outlaw of the earth,

  Of ancient crooked will;

  Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,

  I keep my secret still.

  Fools! For I also had my hour,

  One far fierce hour and sweet.

  There was a shout about my ears,

  And palms before my feet.

  28 March • I Watched a Blackbird • Thomas Hardy

  Easter Sunday can fall on any date between 22 March and 25 April. Here is one Easter Day encounter in poetry, between Thomas Hardy and a blackbird. Hardy was a prolific writer and wrote great works including the novels Far from the Madding Crowd, Jude the Obscure and Tess of the d’Urbervilles. Hardy himself would probably have been surprised to learn that today he’s more renowned for his books than his verse, as he always identified more as a poet.

  I watched a blackbird on a budding sycamore

  One Easter Day, when sap was stirring twigs to the core;

  I saw his tongue, and crocus-coloured bill

  Parting and closing as he turned his trill;

  Then he flew down, seized on a stem of hay,

  And upped to where his building scheme was under way,

  As if so sure a nest were never shaped on spray.

  28 March • Easter Wings • George Herbert

  ‘Easter Wings’ is an example of a shape or pattern poem, and the poem’s visual form literally illustrates the wings of the title. Easter commemorates the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, and his rebirth. The poem echoes this progression from sorrow to joy.

  Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

  Though foolishly he lost the same,

  Decaying more and more,

  Till he became

  Most poor:

  With thee

  O let me rise

  As larks, harmoniously,

  And sing this day thy victories:

  Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

  My tender age in sorrow did begin

  And still with sicknesses and shame

  Thou didst so punish sin,

  That I became

  Most thin.

  With thee

  Let me combine,

  And feel this day thy victory:

  For, if I imp my wing on thine,

  Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

  29 March • Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now • A. E. Housman

  It is an Easter tradition to wear white clothing – and in Housman’s poem, it is the cherry trees that are dressed in white, first in blossom, then in snow. The poet thinks of his full ‘threescore years and ten’, or seventy years, which is the biblical average life span. If life is so short, then we should be enjoying the beautiful moments not just in spring, but in winter too. Like Robert Herrick’s poem on daffodils (see 15 March), this is a carpe diem poem, a poem that urges us to ‘seize the day’.

  Loveliest of trees, the cherry now

  Is hung with bloom along the bough,

  And stands about the woodland ride

  Wearing white for Eastertide.

  Now, of my threescore years and ten,

  Twenty will not come again,

  And take from seventy springs a score,

  It only leaves me fifty more.

  And since to look at things in bloom

  Fifty springs are little room,

  About the woodlands I will go

  To see the cherry hung with snow.

  29 March • Easter Day • Oscar Wilde

  Oscar Wilde is something of a rebellious voice within poetry. In this sonnet on the occasion of Easter, Wilde describes vividly the overwhelming majesty and splendour of the Pope in Rome. Yet the poet contrasts these regal images with the ancient origins of Christianity, and ends with the simple image of an exhausted Christ wandering alone millennia before.

  The silver trumpets rang across the Dome:

  The people knelt upon the ground with awe:

  And borne upon the necks of men I saw,

  Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.

  Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,

  And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,

  Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:

  In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.

  My heart stole back across wide wastes of years

  To One who wandered by a lonely sea,

  And sought in vain for any place of rest:

  ‘Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,

  I, only I, must wander wearily,

  And bruise My feet, and drink wine salt with tears.’

  30 March • Bitter State • Duranka Perera

  While Easter Sunday is a time for celebration throughout the Christian world, it will forever be associated with tragedy and loss in Sri Lanka, where a series of devastating terrorist attacks were carried out on that date in 2019. This piece by the slam poet and practising doctor Duranka Perera gives a powerful and personal account of the anger, anguish and resilience experienced by the Sri Lankan people in the wake of the bombings. Perera lives in the east of England, and, in this poem, he describes his pain at being a world away from his native country in a time of crisis – a feeling that will doubtless be familiar to many.

  I was angry when it happened.

  I was angry when the numbers continued to rise.

  I was angry when bitter tongues lashed old wounds.

  I was angry when a dying monument drew more

  money than

  The dying themselves.

  I was angry when my words weren’t heard.

  I was angry that I was told to watch and wait till the dust had

  settled, when all I wanted was to dive right in.

  I was angry that I was here, safe, distant, impotent, that the

  Through of wanting to do something meant feeding my ego

  before the orphaned.

  I was angry that three tragedies have crushed my country in my

  short lifetime.

  I’m so angry that my voice is beginning to choke.

  But I won’t stop shouting

  So long as there is hope.

  30 March • The Desired Swan-Song • Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  This humorous couplet is based on the ancient belief that, having been silent their entire lives, swans sing a beautiful song in the moment before they die. The term ‘swan-song’ has come to describe a final performance or achievement just before the death of a creative artist.

  Swans sing before they die – ’twere no bad thing

  Should certain persons die before they sing.

  31 March • Against Idleness and Mischief • Isaac Watts

  In this poem Watts is trying to argue that there is a moral purpose to keeping busy.

  How doth the little busy bee

  Improve each shining hour,

  And gather honey all the day

  From every opening flower!

  How skilfully she builds her cell!

  How neat she spreads the wax!

  And labours hard to store it well

  With the sweet food she makes.

  In works of labour or of skill,

  I would be busy too;

  For Satan finds some mischief still

  For idle hands to do.

  In books, or work, or healthful play,

  Let my first years be passed,

  That I may give for every day

  Some good account at last.

  31 March • How Doth the Little Crocodile • Lewis Carroll

  A ‘parody’ is a way of poking fun at something by imitating its styl
e – in this case, Lewis Carroll is cheekily rewriting the previous didactic work by Isaac Watts. This short poem appears in Carroll’s 1865 novel Alice in Wonderland: it is recited by Alice in Chapter Two.

  How doth the little crocodile

  Improve his shining tail,

  And pour the waters of the Nile

  On every golden scale!

  How cheerfully he seems to grin,

  How neatly spread his claws,

  And welcomes little fishes in

  With gently smiling jaws!

  April

  1 April • April Fool • Louis MacNeice

  Pinch, punch, first of the month! It’s April Fool’s Day, a time for practical jokes and hoaxes. The Irish poet Louis MacNeice wrote this in the early part of the twentieth century. Incidentally, the earliest recorded foolishness on 1 April is a trick played by a fox in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, which dates from the late fourteenth century.

  Here come I, old April Fool,

  Between March hare and nuts in May.

  Fool me forward, fool me back,

  Hares will dance and nuts will crack.

  Here come I, my fingers crossed

  Between the shuffle and the deal.

  Fool me flush or fool me straight,

  Queens are wild and queens will wait.

  Here come I, my clogs worn out

  Between the burden and the song.

  Fool me hither, fool me hence,

  Keep the sound but ditch the sense.

  Here come I, my hair on fire,

  Between the devil and the deep.

  Fool me over, fool me down,

  Sea shall dry and devil shall drown.

  Here come I, in guts and brass,

  Between the raven and the pit.

  Fool me under, fool me flat,

  Coffins land on Ararat.

  Here come I, old April Fool,

  Between the hoar frost and the fall.

  Fool me drunk or fool me dry,

  Spring comes back, and back come I.

  1 April • Jabberwocky • Lewis Carroll

  It’s hard to think of a poem sillier than ‘Jabberwocky’. Lewis Carroll included ‘Jabberwocky’ in his novel Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There, the sequel to Alice in Wonderland. You might come to the same conclusion as Alice: ‘It seems very pretty … but it’s rather hard to understand!’ Some of Carroll’s nonsense words have since made their way into the dictionary, such as ‘chortle’, which means ‘laugh’.

  ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

  All mimsy were the borogoves,

  And the mome raths outgrabe.

  ‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

  The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

  Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

  The frumious Bandersnatch!’

  He took his vorpal sword in hand;

  Long time the manxome foe he sought—

  So rested he by the Tumtum tree

  And stood awhile in thought.

  And, as in uffish thought he stood,

  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

  Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

  And burbled as it came!

  One, two! One, two! And through and through

  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

  He left it dead, and with its head

  He went galumphing back.

  ‘And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

  Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

  O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’

  He chortled in his joy.

  ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

  All mimsy were the borogoves,

  And the mome raths outgrabe.

  2 April • The Walrus and the Carpenter • Lewis Carroll

  April Fool’s Day might have been and gone, but there’s always time for a little more nonsense. This poem also originally appeared in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass. It is recited to Alice by the characters Tweedledum and Tweedledee. In the novel, Alice concludes that both the Walrus and the Carpenter are ‘very unpleasant characters’ – and, as it happens, so are Tweedledee and Tweedledum!

  The sun was shining on the sea,

  Shining with all his might:

  He did his very best to make

  The billows smooth and bright –

  And this was odd, because it was

  The middle of the night.

  The moon was shining sulkily,

  Because she thought the sun

  Had got no business to be there

  After the day was done –

  ‘It’s very rude of him,’ she said,

  ‘To come and spoil the fun.’

  The sea was wet as wet could be,

  The sands were dry as dry.

  You could not see a cloud, because

  No cloud was in the sky:

  No birds were flying overhead –

  There were no birds to fly.

  The Walrus and the Carpenter

  Were walking close at hand:

  They wept like anything to see

  Such quantities of sand:

  ‘If this were only cleared away,’

  They said, ‘it would be grand!’

  ‘If seven maids with seven mops

  Swept it for half a year,

  Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,

  ‘That they could get it clear?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,

  And shed a bitter tear.

  ‘O Oysters, come and walk with us!’

  The Walrus did beseech.

  ‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,

  Along the briny beach:

  We cannot do with more than four,

  To give a hand to each.’

  The eldest Oyster looked at him,

  But never a word he said:

  The eldest Oyster winked his eye,

  And shook his heavy head –

  Meaning to say he did not choose

  To leave the oyster-bed.

  But four young Oysters hurried up,

  All eager for the treat:

  Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,

  Their shoes were clean and neat –

  And this was odd, because, you know,

  They hadn’t any feet.

  Four other Oysters followed them,

  And yet another four;

  And thick and fast they came at last,

  And more, and more, and more –

  All hopping through the frothy waves,

  And scrambling to the shore.

  The Walrus and the Carpenter

  Walked on a mile or so,

  And then they rested on a rock

  Conveniently low:

  And all the little Oysters stood

  And waited in a row.

  ‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,

  ‘To talk of many things:

  Of shoes – and ships – and sealing-wax –

  Of cabbages – and kings –

  And why the sea is boiling hot –

  And whether pigs have wings.’

  ‘But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,

  ‘Before we have our chat:

  For some of us are out of breath,

  And all of us are fat!’

  ‘No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.

  They thanked him much for that.

  ‘A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,

  ‘Is what we chiefly need:

  Pepper and vinegar besides

  Are very good indeed –

  Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,

  We can begin to feed.’

  ‘But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,

  Turning a little blue.

  ‘After such kindness, that would be

  A dismal thing to do!’

  ‘The night is fine,’ the Walrus said.


  ‘Do you admire the view?

  ‘It was so kind of you to come!

  And you are very nice!’

  The Carpenter said nothing but

  ‘Cut us another slice:

  I wish you were not quite so deaf –

  I’ve had to ask you twice!’

  ‘It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,

  ‘To play them such a trick.

  After we’ve brought them out so far,

  And made them trot so quick!’

  The Carpenter said nothing but

  ‘The butter’s spread too thick!’

  ‘I weep for you,’ the Walrus said:

  ‘I deeply sympathize.’

  With sobs and tears he sorted out

  Those of the largest size,

  Holding his pocket-handkerchief

  Before his streaming eyes.

  ‘O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter,

  ‘You’ve had a pleasant run!

  Shall we be trotting home again?’

  But answer came there none –

  And this was scarcely odd, because

  They’d eaten every one.

  2 April • The Mad Gardener’s Song • Lewis Carroll

  This nonsense poem, with its confusing mixture of animals, people and absolute ridiculousness, is the best-known part of Lewis Carroll’s lesser-known novel, Sylvie and Bruno.

  He thought he saw an Elephant

  That practised on a fife:

  He looked again, and found it was

  A letter from his wife.

  ‘At length I realize,’ he said,

  ‘The bitterness of Life!’

  He thought he saw a Buffalo

  Upon the chimney-piece:

  He looked again, and found it was

  His Sister’s Husband’s Niece.

  ‘Unless you leave this house,’ he said,

  ‘I’ll send for the Police!’

  He thought he saw a Rattlesnake

  That questioned him in Greek:

  He looked again, and found it was

  The Middle of Next Week.

  ‘The one thing I regret,’ he said,

  ‘Is that it cannot speak!’

  He thought he saw a Banker’s Clerk