Friday, May 08, 2009

The Instinct of Hope

Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E'en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?

John Clare


And for those who want more,
here's a door to John Clare's poetry ...

3 comments:

  1. To celebrate the beginning of my second spring...

    To your good health, Sean! And with gratitude to John Clare.

    Claude

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  2. To your (second) spring, Claude. :)

    Nice thought, isn't it. Glad you like(d) the poem.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I will enjoy every second spring that comes.
    Enchanting poems on the link you provided.

    ReplyDelete