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.

And the spring comes slowly up this way.

And the spring comes slowly up this way.

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.

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.

A man has every season while a woman only has the right to spring.

A man has every season while a woman only has the right to spring.

Springtime is the land awakening. The March winds are the morning yawn.

Springtime is the land awakening. The March winds are the morning yawn.

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
read more

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.

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.

If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a read more

If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud
In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."