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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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.
I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have a light joyousness of springtime which read more
I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have a light joyousness of springtime which never lets anyone suspect the labors it has cost me.
For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.
For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.
Gentle Spring!--in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart said,
read more
Gentle Spring!--in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart said,
And thou,--makest the sad heart gay.
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.
No kind action ever stops with itself. One kind action leads to another. Good example is followed. A single act read more
No kind action ever stops with itself. One kind action leads to another. Good example is followed. A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees. The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves.
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.
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:
Of April, May, of June, and July flowers.
read more
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:
Of April, May, of June, and July flowers.
I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
read more
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
