There has been much expounding of the virtues of spring
on the human psyche (you see I have been lurking a little).
I have been mulling over spring for three weeks now
and I have been too encumbered
by the domestic travails of moving house and home,
as you know - you would have had to be
living in outer Mongolia to miss this titbit.
However all I want to say on Spring is encompassed in these few words ...
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
An Essay on Man, Epistle I, 1733