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If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, read more
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"
Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"
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.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's read more
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.
A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire; but a single tree is like a dancing tongue read more
A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire; but a single tree is like a dancing tongue of flame to warm the heart.
And you would accept the seasons of your heart just as you have always accepted that seasons pass over your read more
And you would accept the seasons of your heart just as you have always accepted that seasons pass over your fields and you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
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.
Autumn to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,--
So rolls the changing year, read more
Autumn to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,--
So rolls the changing year, and so we change;
Motion so swift, we know not that we move.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, read more
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.