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by Jane Stahl
T.S. Eliot's 1922 poem "The Wasteland" begins with "April is the cruelest month." His reason for saying so is not mine, however. He was contrasting nature's rebirth with what he claimed is a barren human existence.
I, on the other hand, think of his opening phrase each year when the month gifts us with longer sunshine, beautiful flowering trees, and a few perfect 75-degree days only to turn within hours--as it did again this year--to freezing temperatures and gusty winds. So cruel that while the cherry blossoms and red bud trees took the beating, the blooms of glorious marigolds lost their glory in rusty debris.
What a cruel tease April is! We were so ready for winter to be over; winter coats and sweaters were stored away; flipflops came out of hibernation. We sighed... and resentfully bundled up for a few days again...longing for warm days and balmy evenings.
In Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem "Spring," she joins Eliot and me in our frustration with the month...."an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers."
Spring
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing.
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Don't stop there. Stay tuned for Millay's more famous "God's World" when April passes into autumn.
God's World
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide gray skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with color! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all.
But never knew I this:
Here such a passion is
As stretchers me apart,--Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me,--let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.
More News from Boyertown
- Berks-Mont Business Association Can Bear-ly Wait for May 8 Friday, May 8, 2026, in Boyertown promises an evening to meet with friends--old and new--and to discover businesses and opportunities.
- April 29: One-a-Day: Celebrating National Poetry Month Gerard Manley Hopkins addresses the windhover, a falcon in flight against stress and outward forces--suggesting that glory and greatness are revealed under the greatest odds.
