Begin afresh

This is one of my favourite poems, and beautifully apposite for this time of year.
Classic Larkin mix of melancholia, immanence and precision. 
And wonderful unobtrusive rhyme. Savour...
The Trees. By Philip Larkin

The trees are coming into leaf  
Like something almost being said;  
The recent buds relax and spread,  
Their greenness is a kind of grief.   
Is it that they are born again  
And we grow old? No, they die too,  
Their yearly trick of looking new  
Is written down in rings of grain.   
Yet still the unresting castles thresh 
 In fullgrown thickness every May.  
Last year is dead, they seem to say,  
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.


  1. three stanzas of four lines - but the blog won't let me put them in!
    I can never read a Larkin poem without hearing his voice - sort of plummy and resonant and Eeyore-ish. Wonderful!


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