Monday, November 13, 2006

An Ode to Fall, or Five Days Until I Turn 37

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as 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 will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

-- "Spring and Fall, To A Young Child," by Gerard Manley Hopkins


Sigh.

3 comments:

ArlingtonJB said...

I feel your pain. I'm going to be 38 on Friday...

ArlingtonJB said...

And I'm not dealing with it well...

Badger said...

Uh, 37 is NOT OLD, bizznatch. You have another three whole years until you're old.

You know, like me.