My friend Norrie sent me this poem over the weekend to celebrate the coming of Spring:
For winters rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the Spring begins
A simple and evocative portrayal of all that is good triumphing over darkness.
It is a little known fact that Algernon (now why didn’t I think of calling Leonardo that?) Charles Swinburne was the Amy Winehouse of his day. He was an alcoholic sadomasochist; sounds like a rather heady combination and should probably not be tried at home.
Eventually though he was rehabilitated and lived to the ripe old age of 72 in Putney. Maybe the same will happen to Amy now she has finally ditched the dreadful druggy Blake in favour of a nice boy who wears glasses and has a proper job from Gloucestershire.
Good luck to him and to Amy, however I’m not sure she’ll ever fit into life in Putney, however long she lives.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008