Sorry to be late with this post… I have just gotten out of my sickbed. Pride, as they say, cometh before a fall and I was so happy that I had survived the winter without a flu or even a head cold. Ha! When I was felled recently, it was a whopper. I’m still shaky, but I’m recovering greenness, to borrow George Herbert’s term.
Here are the relevant stanzas from his poem, The Flower:
Who would have thought my shriveled heartCould have recovered greenness? It was goneQuite underground; as flowers departTo see their mother-root, when they have blown,Where they togetherAll the hard weather,Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
These are thy wonders, Lord of power,Killing and quickening, bringing down to hellAnd up to heaven in an hour;Making a chiming of a passing-bell.We say amissThis or that is:Thy word is all, if we could spell.