Monday, 29 April 2013


The genesis of this poem appeared in my secondary school magazine. I was aged 11 years at the time. (I will be 68 later this year.)

Oh, my, how time flies! Scary, yes, but (as regular readers will know) I for one take reassurance in the fact that spring always follows winter…


In the air, birds singing;
everywhere, bluebells
ringing out its message
of peace, love, rebirth,
imaging a passage of seasons,
(shortcut to Eternity)
where every human heart
dares share its secrets
(if with Earth Mother alone)

A kinder consciousness
intoning rites in the wind,
trying to magic a better future
for all humankind

Life, yes, a passing shadow,
its arts, achievements,
image makers come and gone,
no mere chance thing,
but never-ending stories
for each human being
to tell, retell, believe theirs
immortalised in the timeless
Gloria of spring

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared in an anthology, The Joy of Spring, Poetry Now [Forward Press] 2001 and subsequently in 1st eds. of First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; revised edition in e-format in preparation.]

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