The month of April always brings the potential for wild weather, whether in the form of storms, tornados, or floods. But for allergy sufferers, April offers another brand of cruelty every day. For those of us who think of pollen like poison, April can indeed be the “cruelest month,” as T. S. Eliot tells us in The Wasteland. These opening lines seem directed straight at the allergically challenged:
April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain.
So, before we officially kiss April goodbye, let’s pay homage to the allergy season with a few other poems to make you sneeze, sniffle, and drip with joy.
— “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” Walt Whitman
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
I should have known,
though I did not,
that the lily-of-the-valley
is a flower makes many ill
who whiff it.
— “Asphodel, That Greeny Flower,” William Carlos Williams