APRIL is the cruellest month
The Waste Land , By TS Eliot ( An Excerpt)
I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
April will be a busy, busy, busy month. I’m finally able to see why T.S Eliot describes it as the cruellest month. Utterly prescient.
I’m still waiting for May.
