I'm not going to Rome.
St Paul's in London. From the outside.

It Is Margaret You Mourn For


As you may or may not remember, one place I'm visiting on my upcoming adventure is the former home of William Wordsworth. In preparation, I downloaded an audible version of some guy reading his poetry. 

Brilliant idea. I love it.

You may also remember my faovirte poet is Gerard Manley Hopkins. I enjoyed the Wordsworth poetry so much I decided to also download someone reading me Hopkins poetry. 

Even better idea.

Last night I was listening to it while I went to sleep. It's so beautiful. The words he chose to put together sound like... dreamy. I was listening and drifting off to sleep when I heard "it is Margaret you mourn for."


I was awake right away.
I suddenly remembered that poem I had forgotten about and not read or heard in ages. I loved that poem! I listened a couple times and then fell asleep, so happy.

I'm going to share it with you.
It's called

Spring and Fall.
to a young child


Márgarét, áre you gríeving 
Over Goldengrove unleaving? 
Leáves like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? 
Ah! ás the heart grows older 
It will come to such sights colder 
By and by, nor spare a sigh 
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; 
And yet you wíll weep and know why. 
Now no matter, child, the name: 
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same. 
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed 
What heart heard of, ghost guessed: 
It ís the blight man was born for, 
It is Margaret you mourn for. 
My heart's not growing older, and those sights still thrill me. The same was true for him. But I get what he's saying, and I love the way he says it.