{"id":10086,"date":"2020-03-19T07:27:41","date_gmt":"2020-03-19T14:27:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.kathrynpetroharper.com\/mindfullife\/?p=10086"},"modified":"2026-01-21T16:13:17","modified_gmt":"2026-01-22T00:13:17","slug":"hope-for-spring","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.kathrynpetroharper.com\/mindfullife\/2020\/03\/19\/hope-for-spring\/","title":{"rendered":"Hope For Spring"},"content":{"rendered":"

I grew up going camping all over the U.S. My parents loved camping and instilled it in me. My mother loved growing things. She was a master gardener. She had hoped to make it to see one more spring. This poem is another one she would like read at her service. <\/p>\n

Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n

I said in my heart, \u201cI am sick of four walls and a
\n ceiling.
\nI have need of the sky.
\nI have business with the grass.
\nI will up and get me away where the hawk
\nis wheeling,
\nLone and high,
\nAnd the slow clouds go by.
\nI will get me away to the waters that glass
\nThe clouds as they pass,
\nTo the waters that lie
\nLike the heart of a maiden aware of a
\ndoom drawing
\n nigh
\nAnd dumb for sorcery of impending joy.
\nI will get me away to the woods.
\nSpring, like a huntsman\u2019s boy,
\nHalloos along the hillsides and unhoods
\nThe falcon in my will.
\nThe dogwood calls me, and the sudden thrill
\nThat breaks in apple blooms down country
\nroads
\nPlucks me by the sleeve and nudges me away.
\nThe sap is in the boles to-day,
\nAnd in my veins a pulse that yearns and goads.\u201d
\nWhen I got to the woods, I found out
\nWhat the Spring was about.<\/p>\n

–Richard Hovey<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"two<\/a>