Monday, May 4, 2009

Spring Already, and It's Barely May


For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the Spring begins.

Sooner or later at this time of year, this poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne gets stuck in the Proper Bostonian's head. The flowering trees at Mount Auburn Cemetery inspired its annual reappearance yesterday. The old copper beeches are gorgeous now, flaming and shimmering before they darken. Here's one:


As much as I enjoy spring's warmth, I think clouds are better than blazing sunshine — and cooler, breezy days are preferable to hot ones. This week's weather looks promising. (The lilac scent from the vase on the mantel is dizzying, by the way.)

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