Devon Book Club discussion

I love this - what Spring poems speak to you?

The Enkindled Spring D.H. Lawrence (1916)

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.

Today: Billy Collins

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

Yes, I like that one too. full of optimism.

Thanks to you both - I love both these poems. What a great way to start the day.

The imagery in that Lawrence poem is wonderful, but what do we think he meant by his spirit being 'a shadow that's gone astray and is lost'?
I think the Collins one is lovely - a single sentence that creates so many happy pictures.
My favourite comment about spring isn't a poem, it's the much-quoted gem of American journalist, Doug Larson.
'Spring is when you feel like whistling, even with a shoe full of slush.'

Kathy wrote: "Thanks to you both - I love both these poems. What a great way to start the day."

The gift of great poets - that ability to capture an intensity of an idea and leave us with the sense of it long after we've finished reading it

B J wrote: "The imagery in that Lawrence poem is wonderful, but what do we think he meant by his spirit being 'a shadow that's gone astray and is lost'?
I think the Collins one is lovely - a single sentence th..."

I wondered that B.J. It said something to me about the smallness of an individual in the splendour and scale of nature as bursts forth. It had a sadness to it in the midst of the optimism of renewal that leaped out at me and intrigued me. I thought the use of "throng" was interesting - especially when coupled with reference to people coming across his gaze. A sense of small self in the multitude of life?

What did you take from it?

Really like both these poems - Lawrence was such a troubled soul. I wonder if this poem was inspired by the Cornish countryside, as he was living there in 1916. Apparently, he was also becoming disillusioned with living in England by this time as a number of his novels had not been well received, which may explain his feeling that his spirit was being tossed and buffeted about.

I really couldn't be sure, but that's the appeal of a lot of poetry - the meaning isn't immediately clear and it can take a lot of thinking about. I was left with the impression that maybe he was still mentally in the grip of winter and was struggling to come to terms with the natural world springing into life.

B J wrote: "I really couldn't be sure, but that's the appeal of a lot of poetry - the meaning isn't immediately clear and it can take a lot of thinking about. I was left with the impression that maybe he was s..."

Good point BJ. Today feels like the sort of spring day when one could well be tossed and buffeted about by the forces of nature, certainly in a physical sense. To paraphrase Winnie the Pooh - it's a very blustery day!

Claire Tomalin's biography of Katherine MansfieldKatherine Mansfield: A Secret Life describes Mansfield and Murray joining DHL and Frieda in Cornwall. The chapter is called: Cornwall 1916: 'A Whole Spring Full of Blue-Bells' and there is much talk of the enjoyment that Mansfield had in the spring flowers and shared with DHL. I can just picture great thrusting bunches of snowdrops, daffs and bluebells as the green bonfires, and the gorse that surrounded the cottages would likely be fiery bushes.
DHL was very troubled at the time: the war was an ever-present worry - and a great reminder of mortality (hence the sense of fragility of the spirit?) - especially for DHL and his German wife. They were under constant surveillance. Also, his health was increasingly bad. TB had not yet been mentioned, but he had been turned down for conscription on grounds of ill-health, and at this time he was beginning to show the depression versus raging enthusiasm/anger phases of the disease. Also, his novel The Rainbow had been seized and banned for obscenity, so perhaps he began to fear his creative spirit being doused.
Nice one Ian. I love his poetry and still reread, although I probably won't revisit the novels again.

Interesting, DrM. Didn't Katherine Mansfield also die young of TB?

Angela wrote: "B J wrote: "I really couldn't be sure, but that's the appeal of a lot of poetry - the meaning isn't immediately clear and it can take a lot of thinking about. I was left with the impression that ma..."

Cultural reference - love it

DrMama wrote: "Claire Tomalin's biography of Katherine MansfieldKatherine Mansfield: A Secret Life describes Mansfield and Murray joining DHL and Frieda in Cornwall. The chapter is called: Cornwall..."

I re-read Rainbow a year or two ago. Still very powerful

B J wrote: "Interesting, DrM. Didn't Katherine Mansfield also die young of TB?"

Yes, in early 1920s, in France ... near Fontainebleau, I think. It was reading her stories at 18 (when doing science A'levels!!) that made me realise I'd chosen the wrong subjects.

I wonder if she contracted it during the time of their friendship with the Lawrences.

Don't know, good point. I will consult the 'Divine Ms Tomalin's' biog of KM again!
The account of KM's death in the biog is such a reality check (from Middleton Murray's records, I recall) that I've never been able to watch things like 'La Traviata', again, with the same suspension of disbelief.

Angela wrote: "Really like both these poems - Lawrence was such a troubled soul. I wonder if this poem was inspired by the Cornish countryside, as he was living there in 1916. Apparently, he was also becoming dis..."

Re DH Lawrence, although not his poetry. We read The Rainbow by him at school, and I loved the way he wrote and the imagery he used. Many years ago now, but I think the motif, silver, kept recurring.

One of my favourites is Philip Larkin's 'The Trees'...Happy Easter everyone!

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

That is lovely Emily. Thank you

Emily wrote: "One of my favourites is Philip Larkin's 'The Trees'...Happy Easter everyone!

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenne..."
I really like the imagery of the first two lines, what a brilliant way to describe the not-quite-there-yet leaves!

Just to lower the tone somewhat, here is Ode to Spring.
Spring has sprung
the grass has riz
I wonder where the birdies is?
The little bird is on the wing
But that's absurd!
Because the wing is on the bird!


It's evidently meant to be said with a Bronx accent and is attributed often either to ee Cummings, Ogden Nash, but is probably anonymous.

Me too Angela, the not-quite-there-yet opens up a big space for thinking, feeling and imagining. Larkin seems to like this type of 'space' - in his 'An Arundel Tomb' he talks of "our almost instinct"....love that too!
- Angela wrote: "Emily wrote: "One of my favourites is Philip Larkin's 'The Trees'...Happy Easter everyone!

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
..."

Angela wrote: "Emily wrote: "One of my favourites is Philip Larkin's 'The Trees'...Happy Easter everyone!

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
..."

Through a Devon Valley

From Lydford Bridge we walk,
following the Lyd west
at tree-top level, high
in the knife-sharp valley.
River heard, but not seen,
screened by shimmering
leaves of all shapes, all hues
of green, green, green.

At our feet on steep slopes,
tumbling from our sight, a
gaily-coloured carpet.
That perfect late spring time;
the last of yellows cling
joined now by whites and blues
then reds of season end
bloom on, on, on.

Primrose, ramson, bluebell,
anemone. Purslane,
Robin so raggedy
and herby Robert strive
for red, manage pink, by
vibrant campion outshone.
Tapestry to delight
and soothe, soothe, soothe.

Exquisite birdsong trills,
songsters concealed in this
valley’s coat of many greens.
Some we know as old friends.
Many more we cannot name.
No need to know the singers
to love the joyous songs.
Please sing, sing, sing.

Down, down to White Lady Falls.
One hundred feet above,
the short-lived Burn plunges.
A silent white sheet strokes
black rock then joins the Lyd
in a sensuous dance.
They twirl on together.
Bring life, life, life.

We cross, heading back east
track the sparkling river.
Trout flash in shallow pools.
Skilled dippers dive for food,
canary yellow wagtails glow,
the king of fishers flashes:
birds of Devon paradise
just fly, fly, fly.

The Lyd hurries on, fed
by many joining streams.
We hear the distant roar.
Working hard is Nature’s
heavy machinery.
Water pounds Devil’s Cauldron
smoothing jagged rock to pleasing curves.
Takes time, time, time.

Awestruck, above the Cauldron
on suspended pathway.
This overwhelming valley
a tiny part of this
wondrous planet. Only we
know the beauty, and yet
bring all that is ugly.
For shame, shame, shame.

Did you write the poem BJ? It's lovely. It's very emotionally entwined with Nature.

Hi Carol. Yes, that's one of mine, written a couple of weeks ago after a walk through Lydford Gorge. Glad you liked it.

B J wrote: "Hi Carol. Yes, that's one of mine, written a couple of weeks ago after a walk through Lydford Gorge. Glad you liked it."

It's the Babbacombe Fair today on the Downs. Don't say it's not exciting round here!

I love the poem, BJ. Really evocative of place. Makes me want to walk the Gorge too!

Carol wrote: "B J wrote: "Hi Carol. Yes, that's one of mine, written a couple of weeks ago after a walk through Lydford Gorge. Glad you liked it."

It's the Babbacombe Fair today on the Downs. Don't say it's not..."

Babbacombe Fair has come a long way over the last few years. The two ladies who run the bookshop in St Marychurch used to have a stand and have authors appear for a book-signing. Do they still do that?

Kathy wrote: "I love the poem, BJ. Really evocative of place. Makes me want to walk the Gorge too!"

Thanks, Kathy. Lydford is one of my favourite places - and not just for the stunning Gorge. For such a tiny village it's stuffed with history: an Iron Age hill fort, a Norman castle, the site of an Anglo-Saxon mint, a lovely church - and a damn fine pub. Unfortunately, no vineyards.

B J wrote: "Carol wrote: "B J wrote: "Hi Carol. Yes, that's one of mine, written a couple of weeks ago after a walk through Lydford Gorge. Glad you liked it."

It's the Babbacombe Fair today on the Downs. Don'..."
Well, I didn't see them there. But I did meet a Torquay author who had her own stand, Margaret Sherlock. I was telling her about this group and she might join us.

B J wrote: "Kathy wrote: "I love the poem, BJ. Really evocative of place. Makes me want to walk the Gorge too!"

Thanks, Kathy. Lydford is one of my favourite places - and not just for the stunning Gorge. For ..."
Sounds wonderful, even so - and you did mention a pub... :)

Kathy wrote: "I love the poem, BJ. Really evocative of place. Makes me want to walk the Gorge too!"

Hi BJ - I really liked the poem too. I dont know the gorge well (long time since I've been there) but it brought it back to me. AS Kathy says, very evocative. But, I really liked the last verse too. Quite a shocking and surprising ending. Brought me up short and was powerful and thought-provoking as a consequence. Thank you for posting it.

Thanks, Ian - glad it spoke to you.