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Our seasons have no fixed returns,
Without our will they come and go;
At noon our sudden read more
Our seasons have no fixed returns,
Without our will they come and go;
At noon our sudden summer burns,
Ere sunset all is snow.
January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
read more
January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps--but, O ye hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.
Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer read more
Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come
Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"
Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower
Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower
Autumn to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,--
So rolls the changing year, read more
Autumn to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,--
So rolls the changing year, and so we change;
Motion so swift, we know not that we move.
A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the read more
A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, read more
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall,
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Of if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.