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Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.
Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up read more
Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.
I come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
read more
I come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.
When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
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.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the read more
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.
in Just--
spring when the world is mud--
luscious the little
lame balloonman
read more
in Just--
spring when the world is mud--
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.
It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.
Daughter of heaven and earth, coy Spring,
With sudden passion languishing,
Teaching barren moors to smile,
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Daughter of heaven and earth, coy Spring,
With sudden passion languishing,
Teaching barren moors to smile,
Painting pictures mile on mile,
Holds a cup of cowslip wreaths
Whence a smokeless incense breathes.