How many million Aprils came before I ever knew how white a cherry bough could be, a bed of squills, how blue And many a dancing April when life is done with me, will lift the blue flame of the flower and the white flame of the tree Oh burn me with your beauty then, oh hurt me tree and flower, lest in the end death try to take even this glistening hour.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the beauty of nature and the fleeting quality of life, expressing a desire to embrace its beauty even in the face of death.
In this poignant quote by Sara Teasdale, the speaker reminisces about the beauty of nature, specifically highlighting the cherry trees and flowers that signify the arrival of spring. The vivid imagery conveys a sense of longing and appreciation for the beauty in the world, suggesting that even as life comes to an end, the experiences of beauty should be cherished. The mention of being 'burned' by beauty implies that the intensity of experiencing such beauty is worth embracing, even if it comes with pain, as it emphasizes the transient yet vibrant nature of existence.
In practice
During a nature walk, to inspire others to appreciate their surroundings.
As the waves of perfume, heliotrope, rose, _x000D_ _x000D_ Float in the garden when no wind blows, _x000D_ _x000D_ Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows; _x000D_ _x000D_ So the old tunes float in my mind, _x000D_ _x000D_ And go from me leaving no trace behind, _x000D_ _x000D_ Like fragrance borne on the hush of the wind.
From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.
I thought of you and how you love this beauty, And walking up the long beach all alone I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder As you and I once heard their monotone. Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -- We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me.
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.
Many a night I saw the Pleiads,_x000D_ _x000D_ Rising thro' the mellow shade,_x000D_ _x000D_ Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies,_x000D_ _x000D_ Tangled in a silver braid.
It is in man's heart that the life of nature's spectacle exists; to see it, one must feel it.
Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.
We tend to block off many of our senses when we're staring at a screen. Nature time can literally bring us to our senses.
I see the entire world as Eden, and every time you take an inch of it away, you must do so with respect.
I just wish the world was twice as big and half of it was still unexplored.
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