In his fine poem (one of my favourites), “Tell me not here, it needs not saying”, A. E. Housman beautifully expresses his love of nature while (in the final verse) acknowledging that Mother Nature is, when all is said and done “heartless and “witless”:
“Possess, as I possessed a season, the countries I resign, where over elmy plains the highway would mount the hills and shine, and full of shade the pillared forest would murmur and be mine.
For nature, heartless, witless nature, will neither care nor know what stranger’s feet may find the meadow and trespass there and go, nor ask amid the dews of morning if they are mine or no”. (Poetrybyheart.org.uk).
Nature is (as Housman says) both “heartless” and “witless”, for she is a myriad of processes and natural forces which proceed with no “concern”? for we humans for, in the final analysis nature is…
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