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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.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, May Day (st. 1)
When every brake hath found its note, and sunshine smiles in every flower.
- Edward Everett
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.
- Robert Lee Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time
Eternal Spring, with smiling Verdue here
Warms the mild Air, and crowns the youthful year.
. . . .
The Rose still blushes, and the vi'lets blow.
- Sir Samuel Garth, The Dispensary
(canto IV, l. 298)
So then the year is repeating its old story again. We are come once more, thank God! to its most charming chapter. The violets and the Mayflowers are as its inscriptions or vignettes. It always makes a pleasant impression on us, when we open again at these pages of the book of life.
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Where smiling Spring its earliest visit paid.
- Oliver Goldsmith
Winter, lingering, chills the lap of May.
- Oliver Goldsmith
Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year.
- John Gray, Ode on Spring
What delights us in the spring is more a sensation than an appearance, more a hope than any visible reality. There is something in the softness of the air, in the lengthening of the days, in the very sounds and odors of the sweet time, that caresses us and consoles us after the rigorous weeks of winter.
- Philip Gilbert Hamerton
When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
- Reginald Heber,
Hymn for Seventh Sunday after Trinity
The spring's already at the gate
With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
A flower-garden smiling.
- Heinrich Heine, Book of Songs--Catherine
The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night
With comfort are downward gazing.
- Heinrich Heine, Book of Songs--New Spring
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth by the winds which tell of the violet's birth.
- Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans
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.
- Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans, Voice of Spring
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.
- George Herbert, The Church--Vertue (st. 3)
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.
- Robert Herrick, Hesperides
Winter is past; the heart of Nature warms
Beneath the wrecks of unresisted storms;
Doubtful at first, suspected more than seen,
The southern slopes are fringed with tender green.
- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
- Alfred Edward Housman, A Shropshire Lad
For surely in the blind deep-buried roots
Of all men's souls to-day
A secret quiver shoots.
- Richard Hovey, Spring
The golden line is drawn between winter and summer. Behind all is blackness and darkness and dissolution. Before is hope, and soft airs, and the flowers, and the sweet season of hay; and people will cross the fields, reading or walking with one another; and instead of the rain that soaks death into the heart of green things, will be the rain which they drink with delight; and there will be sleep on the grass at midday, and early rising in the morning, and long moonlight evenings.
- Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt)
What change has made the pastures sweet
And reached the daisies at my feet,
And cloud that wears a golden hem?
This lovely world, the hills, the sward--
They all look fresh, as if our Lord
But yesterday had finished them.
- Jean Ingelow
They know who keep a broken tryst,
Till something from the Spring be missed
We have not truly known the Spring.
- Robert Underwood Johnson, The Wistful Days
Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose.
That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the branches sang
Ah whence and whither flown again, who knows?
- Omar Khayyam ("The Tent-Maker"),
The Rubaiyat (st. 96),
The peach-bud glows, the wild bee hums, and wind-flowers wave in graceful gladness.
- Lucy Larcom
All flowers of Spring are not May's own;
The crocus cannot often kiss her;
The snow-drop, ere she comes, has flown:--
The earliest violets always miss her.
- Lucy Larcom, The Sister Months
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