Residual Nabokov Resentment?

It's a whole new spin on Spring! Huzzah!

It's not really huzzah-worthy, though, because this one is pretty depressing. It's okay, though, because it doesn't feel like poetry to me unless it's depressing. True story.

Anyway, I was intrigued by the fact that the only incontrovertible evidence that the speaker's husband has died is in the title. I wondered if I would have assumed he had died if I hadn't read the title, but now I can never know, because I did read the title--which, by the way, I feel is proof that there is indeed such a thing as reading, so take that, Nabokov.

Now, let's get back to the Spring thing. This time of year is "poignant" because spring is affiliated so closely with new life--blooming, budding trees, resurrection and whatnot. The lady's husband is dead, which is decidedly the opposite of living. Also, this meadow seems to remind her of her husband. For this reason, the son seems to be trying to coerce her into returning there to remember and mourn and move on. When the widow hears this, however, she envisions, rather than a rejuvenation, a sinking into the marsh which, to the reader, feels permanent, as though she might consider her son's advice only to join her husband in death. While the son intends the white trees "in the distance" to inspire a hope for the future, they only seem to further depress his mother.