tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3407624264627208128.post2412314977593046839..comments2024-01-26T21:38:25.924-08:00Comments on Duane's PoeTree: Ian Copestick writesDuanesPoeTreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17053093400086634552noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3407624264627208128.post-44362762875756691652020-04-08T13:50:28.880-07:002020-04-08T13:50:28.880-07:00Excellent poem, I dig Ian's work.Excellent poem, I dig Ian's work. James D. Casey IVhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00799497745562449908noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3407624264627208128.post-68638562496786038232020-04-08T11:41:15.947-07:002020-04-08T11:41:15.947-07:00April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out ...April is the cruellest month, breeding<br />Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing<br />Memory and desire, stirring<br />Dull roots with spring rain.<br /><br />--T. S. Eliot, opening lines of "The Waste Land" (1922)<br /><br />It may be useful to compare these lines to the opening of "The Canterbury Tales," which Geoffrey Chaucer wrote between 1387 and 1400:<br /><br />When April with his showers sweet with fruit<br />The drought of March has pierced unto the root<br />And bathed each vein with liquor that has power<br />To generate therein and sire the flower<br /><br />Eliot transformed Chaucer's verb “pierce” to motivate an entirely different, and opposing, view of the month.<br />DuanesPoeTreehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17053093400086634552noreply@blogger.com