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.
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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.
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.
Gentle Spring!--in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart said,
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Gentle Spring!--in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart said,
And thou,--makest the sad heart gay.
The splendor of the rose and the whitness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent read more
The splendor of the rose and the whitness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its lovliness.
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."
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
I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have a light joyousness of springtime which read more
I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have a light joyousness of springtime which never lets anyone suspect the labors it has cost me.
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.
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.
