For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds
is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the
tender grape, give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away.
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Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly,
Ring, bluebells, ring!
Winning eye and heart completely,
Sing, robin, read more
Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly,
Ring, bluebells, ring!
Winning eye and heart completely,
Sing, robin, sing!
All among the reeds and rushes,
Where the brook its music hushes,
Bright the caloposon blushes,__
Laugh, O murmuring Spring!
Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
read more
Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year.
Life stands before me like an eternal spring with new and brilliant clothes.
Life stands before me like an eternal spring with new and brilliant clothes.
For surely in the blind deep-buried roots
Of all men's souls to-day
A secret quiver shoots.
For surely in the blind deep-buried roots
Of all men's souls to-day
A secret quiver shoots.
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a read more
If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud
In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created spring.
The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created spring.
The splendor of the rose and the whitness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent read more
The splendor of the rose and the whitness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its lovliness.
