The Trees
by Philip Larkin
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
You may read another by Philip Larkin here.
Oh, how beautiful !
ReplyDeleteI'm off to read more works from Mr. Larkin....
Thank you for the introduction :)
You are so welcome - he's quite wonderful.
ReplyDeleteJust lovely. I never read or heard that poem but I will remember it now. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteI love it, too, KSV.
ReplyDeleteI do love his poems. This one is a favourite of mine. Thanks!
ReplyDeletePerfect. I have been thinking on the leaves as they burst open all around us.
ReplyDeleteThank you Pamela and Nan, I am always especially pleased when people like the poems.
ReplyDeleteYour header photo is fabulous, Nan. I love the poem and photo. It's very soothing for me on this hot, humid dad.
ReplyDeleteKay, humid, as in hot and humid? ha ha. Cool, cloudy, 55º here. Same for days and days. I've not had a chance to follow your travels but will get over and catch up as soon as I can.
ReplyDelete