The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You're one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you're two months back in the middle of March.
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Sweet Spring, full of sweet dayes and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows read more
Sweet Spring, full of sweet dayes and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
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.
Spring makes its own statement, so loud and clear that the gardener seems to be only one of the instruments, read more
Spring makes its own statement, so loud and clear that the gardener seems to be only one of the instruments, not the composer.
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
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.
The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night
With comfort are downward gazing.
The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night
With comfort are downward gazing.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
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.
Now spring returns; but not to me returns
The vernal joy my better years have known;
Dim read more
Now spring returns; but not to me returns
The vernal joy my better years have known;
Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns,
And all the joys of life with health have flown.
