The Best of February

SPECTATOR COMPETITION No.

The usual prizes were offered for attempts possible light.

469: Report by Allan M. Laing iv show February plausibly in the best

WHET HER the authors of the flood of sonnets, triolets, acrostics, parodies, free verse and nostal- gic prose which poured in for this competition were entirely sincere, I cannot help doubting. I have an idea that T. J. Hunt's brief entry:

Disastrous month, great cheater of longevity,

Whose one redeeming virtue is its brevity found an echo in the souls of many other com- petitors. For example, it seemed to me that Hugh Nicol, in apostrophising the month with '0 Feb- ruary, 0 month divine!' was laying it on a bit too thick. Nevertheless, it was surprising to discover how many genuine virtues February is able to add to its much-prized brevity—from the inevitable snowdrop to the delight of boiling marmalade. Colin Prestige credited February with a statistical sense of humour. John Vallins had the curious notion of finding the best of February in describ- ing a 'pilgrimage of pleasure on the Continent' in Chaucerian accents. P. M. found in it (would she were accurate!) a 'riddance of men who plumb'; and R. A. McKenzie, like Hugh Nicol, went a little too far in winding up his Shakespearean parody with the line: 'This month of so much joy, this dear, dear month !'

I found indubitable sincerity, however, and a high standard of excellence in, alas! far too many entries. With about thirty guineas to distribute in prizes, and two or three whole pages of the Spectator to print the entries, perhaps rough justice might be done. As things are, I must simply congratulate entrants en tnasse, since to print the names of thirty or so authors of prizeworthy efforts would take too much space. For the prizes. I have selected Hugh Lyon, who in prose covered February's best points not only thoroughly, but

attractively: J. E. Cherry and G. J. Blundell for sincere and fine poetry; and D. R. Peddy, for a pleasantly lighthearted treatment of the subject. I suggest they share the prize equal y. I should

like to make it clear, though, that with so many good entries to choose from, the final selection becomes a matter of personal taste; and disap- pointed entrants need not feel that their poems or paragraphs were necessarily inferior. (They won't, anyhow !)

PRIZES

(HUGH LYON) FEBRUARY

A grmi.ing month : A red haze on the beech, green

film on the weeping willow; the white and yellow of snowdrop and aconite, and seeds no longer growing secretly but thrusting bold spikes through the moist earth.

An expectant month: The creeping barrage of daylight after tea, suns smouldering in mist, or peer- ing between clouds with a faint promise of warmth —whispers of March lawns speckled with crocus, lent- lily .buds in hidden valleys, birdsong of early Spring. A planning month: Where to this year? All on tip-

toe for a summer more glorious in anticipation than ever yet in fact,

A compact month :. Four-wceked, four-footed,

with an impudent Leap-year twist to its tail. And—glory be—over three hundred shopping days to Christmas.

(J. E. CHERRY)

Tall elm trees purple with their bursting bud, The first toad eyes the world without his mud; Red nettle casts its tiny wreath of flow'rs As snowdrop heads toll winter's passing hours.

The river, promised to the sea, rides spate, A great dark raven sharply eyes its mate.

As from the pine a goldcrest sings its lay,

The badger's icy night then turns to day.

The first green spears of wheat stand guard erect Until the west wind blows, then genuflect.

A shroud of snow exchanged for verdant gown, And Spring holds out her hand for Winter's crown.

(G. J. BLUNDELL)

The 'quiet lady, February. walks Like some reflective nun th 'otigh her calm land, Down wooded vales where fog, the pate ghost, stalks, And haunted trees in their dark beauty stand.

She strews her snowdrop pearls upon the grass, Thus giving her sole treasure to delight Men fled from winter's tyranny, who pass.

Blessing and blest, before her tranquil sight.

She gives them peace; she brings them lengthening days.

In her they see a prophetess of hope

Clad in truth's silver; see, through her clear gaze, Visions of spring upon the distant slope.

And even.as she turns to go, they cry.

'Fair presence, stay! March with his lion is nigh !'

(D. R. PEDDY)

Opinions may vary about February. But some of us find it a blessing. St. Valentine's Day shows shy lovers the way To start on the road to suit-pressing. Cruft's Show, for the bowwows, enthrones peke and chow wows; Feb. l's a great day for the pheasant. While absende of cartridge and gun, to the partridge, Is always unmixedly pleasant.

Feb. heard the first bellow of baby Longfellow, Of Handel, and Winston's papa, To name but a few—then there's Shrove Tuesday, too (In some parts they say 'Mardi Gras').

So with last Christmas paid for, next Leap Year Day made for The girl at whom strong men have winced, Let's sing out the praise of the twenty-eight days . Not of ult., nor of prox., but of inst.