APRIL, T S Eliot famously said, is the cruellest month. Why did he say that? The enigmatic American poet expressed it in this manner:
April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. This is both strange and intriguing. Winter kept us warm? Really? Not this past winter, for sure.