
‘Listen my soul to the glad refrain’: poetry prescriptions to beat the January blues | Books
‘Last year is dead, they seem to say,” wrote Philip Larkin in his poem The Trees. “Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.” In the heart of the winter (both literally and metaphorically, as the world is in such turmoil), the distilled quality of poetry can work its particular kind of alchemy, as we attempt to make sense…