And in the end…

Summer starts next week, the rapids of the end of the school year slowing as the river of life widens into the more placid flow of summer vacation. We’re all ready, I think.

The days are more reliably sunny now, stretching well past nine o’clock, a bugbear to parents of elementary school kids who have no interest in bedtime before dark, but a harbinger that summer is coming soon.

In that spirit, a couple of weeks ago a friend reminded me of some lines from a poem by James Russell Lowell, “The Vision of Sir Launfal.”

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green,
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there’s never a leaf nor a blade too mean
To be some happy creature’s palace;
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o’errun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,—
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?

Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop over-fills it,
We are happy now because God wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
‘Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky…

The notion that “every clod feels a stir of might” is one to cling to as we put the school year behind us and look forward to a deep breath of summer air and then a return to school with a new energy and renewed connections. 

Before that… time to “sit in the warm shade and feel right well.”

Lowell is swell and all that, but it’s about this time of year that I think of another couple of poets, Lennon and McCartney, who told the world that “in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

This pandemic and the last year and a half of adjusting to it in ways unexpected and unrelenting is a reminder that in the end it’s love that really matters. Now, in this “high-tide of the year,” I look forward to some days when “whatever of life hath ebbed away / Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer.”

One thought on “And in the end…

  1. Pingback: Friday Poem: The Vision of Sir Launfal | The Cheesesellers Wife

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