April is a deceiving month. Skies are often clear, but the cold may still pinch if you dare leave the house in shorts. However, despite the temperamental weather, it is generally considered with positivity. Is spring not a time of promise? Not according to Philip Larkin. Famed for his aptitude for misery, Larkin once claimed that ‘deprivation is for me what daffodils were for Wordsworth.’ He did have an enduring love for the English countryside and an effortless way of evoking the spirit of the seasons but did not share the sentiment of hope when it came to spring. This is an element of his poetry’s greatness. It lacks clichés.
‘Spring’ starts by describing people sitting in a park watching children play in the grass. Stillness pervades as ‘calmly a cloud stands. Calmly a bird sings.’ The people in the park forget about time as others play ball and dogs bark under the clear April sun.
However, the speaker, ‘threading’ through the scene and leaving it untouched as an aloof observer, cannot share this feeling of serenity. Rather, he sees it as an ‘indigestible sterility.’ According to the speaker, only those outside the pressures of everyday life can enjoy such idleness, making ‘Spring of all seasons most gratuitous.’
We know of Larkin’s relentless work habit from the poem ‘Toads’. He recognised its burden, questioning why he could not use his ‘wit as a pitchfork / And drive the brute off?’ while also understanding its necessity:
For something sufficiently toad- like
Squats in me, too;
Its hunkers are heavy as hard luck,
And cold as snow.
This instinct, therefore, caused the observing Larkin to disapprove of the spring wallowers with their ‘immodest’ needs and ‘circuitous’ life paths. Yet perhaps Larkin should have cut them more slack. The ability to stand outside time and to observe and appreciate surroundings is what poetry relies upon. The working habit which is the basis of ‘Toads’ and is absent in ‘Spring’ is widespread in our times. Sitting around to watch the seasons unravel is not a common hobby. One is only an email glance away from their next piece of work, which makes most of us unable to ignore everyday pressures. This could be why poetry is undervalued in our times. As great as this poem is, Larkin perhaps should have been more empathetic to those sitting and observing the countryside: those, he claims, ‘she has least use for.’ Because, as I’ve said, quiet observation is a crucial essence of poetry.
Image “Spring Leaves in Sunlight 5/09/11” by dianecordell is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.