(Winter’s Tale, act 4, sc. 4)
Comment. Today we will deflect our gaze from the contemptible machinations of warmongers, thieves, perverts and unpalatable politicians. We are at the edge of Spring among whose heralds are the daffodils, now in plentiful bloom, at least here in the Pacific Northwest. I wish I could say the same about the swallows, who seem to have completely disappeared, given that their habitat is relentlessly destroyed by the despicable and masochistic search for ‘growth’ by humans.
Still, after pausing to admire the daffodils who come before the swallow used to dare, while taking the winds of March with beauty, we may wish to enjoy the following famous related poem by William Wordsworth. And while you are at it, why not read the poem while listening to the “Rustle of Spring” by Christian Sinding. Poem and music perfectly blend producing – at least I hope – a moment of peace. While leaving out of mind the imperialist wars, the war on terror, the war on drugs, the patriot act, the drones, the shrinking liberties, the 1%, the banks, the CIA, the destruction of the environment, the fracking, the freaking speculators and all the servants, worshipers, acolytes and inhabitants of the sewers of the soul.
Here is the link for the “Rustle of Spring”. Read, listen and enjoy!
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
In the play. Perdita displays her botanical knowledge for the benefit of Camillo and Florizel who traveled all the way from an imaginary Kingdom of Sicilia to an equally imaginary Kingdom of Bohemia.