Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall,
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Of if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
read more
January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps--but, O ye hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.
Our seasons have no fixed returns,
Without our will they come and go;
At noon our sudden read more
Our seasons have no fixed returns,
Without our will they come and go;
At noon our sudden summer burns,
Ere sunset all is snow.
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with read more
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the read more
A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.
In a way winter is the real spring, the time when the inner things happen, the resurge of nature.
In a way winter is the real spring, the time when the inner things happen, the resurge of nature.
Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'
Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'
Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"
Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"
Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer read more
Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come
Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never read more
Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.
