In Springtime’s Fields of Glory
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Springtime's Child “Spring” was born to parents who lived in abject poverty, but they were most able, intellectually, greatly endowed in areas of creative arts, and, for whatever reason, highly motivated, almost to a monomaniacal fervor, to leave their station in life for a better one, in every domain. Spring, however, was a child of great and tenuous sensibilities, with mixtures of passive and aggressive elements. She was quite able, as early as detection was possible, creative in all of the fine arts, but given to moods that lifted, being relieved, somewhat, by the grande Natural, the simplistic good of the past, as she reviewed it; and a quiet rebellion was present, toward any authority, although this quality not ever shown until her early adulthood. Abstractions intrigued her, the concrete, a bother, and unpleasant. She was always happy, as her mother remembers, but she was, noticeably, often sad. – her moods were neither pure nor compatible. She entered, then, innocent, with beauty, her antidote to despair, and truth, her grail, bearing puberty and identity establishment, its circumstances of her life greatly changing; and the forces of “good” and “bad,” came to imping strongly upon her frail preparation. Beliefs, values, fantasies – these became incompatible, or compatible to achieve – and the awareness of objective reality, full to her contemplative thought, evolved into symptoms, and illness. Elizabeth
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About the Book
“Respite is a come good- or the memory of a wish that did – after the dark” In Springtime’s Fields of Glory And let me lie in springtime’s fields of glory, In meadows at bloom, a counterpointed flower, Where clouds, effacing, having lost their daunted presence, And I to peace of these, and thought, Know healing silence in feeling, Touch, and understanding. Beauty, my long companion, will drape a pall Of lovely, silken gray, of sunbeams Turned briefly, in kindness, aside, To sprinkle crystal raindrops over petaled Roses, dried of time and feeling, and lightly rosined, Close to twilight. The time will be of rest from struggle, The absolute devouring of doubt and fear, and, Most, the loneliness of a heart apart, That could see and could not catch, left, A heart, alone.
About the Author
Elizabeth Clayton began teaching at the age of twenty at the University of Southern Mississippi. Presently retired, she is spending her days reviewing and preparing her works for publication. Clayton has published sixteen works (primarily poetry) since the release of her autobiography in 2007, which chronicles her struggles with bipolar disorder. In November 2012, she was inducted into the Literary Hall of Fame, Sigma Kappa Delta, and nominated for the Eric Hoffer Award by her publisher in early spring of 2013. She is also featured in the summer 2013 quarter of Forward magazine, and her work, Scarlet Flow, was shown in the World Book Fair in London, England, in early 2013. Additionally, on January 5 and February 9, 2014, she was featured in the New York Times “New Voices, New Perspectives” segment. Her most recent work was published by Trafford in September 2014.