THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come —
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.
Leave a guest comment (subject to review)
Comments
-
I was sure I commented on this but never mind I'll do it again, I think this is about how we spend our life wishing that things could be better when we suddenly realise that what we had was the best after all. Maybe the last four lines are that depression has set in and we can't see spring or the light even though it's there and we don't really know the reason why.........Great poem. I am sure I have analysed this all wrong, but that is what I see in this poem, it is my opinion...
Sanity.
Adding your comment:
