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Memory, you have the key.
Indeed.
CR

On Sunday, April 10, 2016, Chanan Mittal <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

> "April is the cruelest month, breeding
> lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
> memory and desire, stirring
> dull roots with spring rain."
>
> ("He who was living is now dead")
>
> And vis-a-vis "spring rain" the memory and desire of another April:
>
> "WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
> The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
> And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
> Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
> Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
> Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
> The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
> Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
> And smale fowles maken melodye,
> That slepen al the night with open ye,
> (So priketh hem nature in hir corages:
> Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
> And palmers for to seken straunge strondes,
> To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
> And specially, from every shires ende
> Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
> The holy blisful martir for to seke,
> That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke."
>
> Well a thought that has prefigured many a time vis-a-vis the opening lines
> of 'The Waste Land.'
>
> CR
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