Monthly Archives: June 2018

Saturday, 9 June 2018: Say not the struggle naught availeth!

A cooler day today to begin with, when we met at 10 am, but by 12 noon it was another warm and sunny day (which brings us to about three weeks of excellent weather).

We were a small group today and so we decided not to do any litter picking but to concentrate on our work on Adel Moor, pulling bracken and removing saplings.

It was clear that our work in the last couple of years has had an effect on the bracken: it was clearly growing more thinly in the areas we have previously pulled or bashed it, than in the areas where we have not.  Best of all, in some (but not all) of the areas we had previously worked, there were very many young heather seedlings coming up.

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The Green Shoots of Recovery: Adel Moor 9 June 2018

We pulled bracken for about an hour and three quarters and made a visible difference to the area we were working, though it is clear that there is far more work to do.

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The moor is a very pleasing place to work and it was a happy morning’s work.

I have probably quoted the poem “Say not the Struggle Naught Availeth” by Arthur Hugh Clough on previous occasions, but it is always worth repeating, so I am including the text of the poem here.  Churchill quoted the final verse in one of his wartime speeches and the reference to looking westward no doubt had resonances which were not in Mr Clough’s mind.

In the context of Adel woods or Adel Moor, where there is always so much work to do, it is worth reminding ourselves that everything we do is an achievement and worthwhile.

Say not the struggle nought availeth,
     The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
     And as things have been they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
     It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
     And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking
     Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back through creeks and inlets making,
     Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,
     When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
     But westward, look, the land is bright.
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