You May Also Like / View all maxioms
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.
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.
Life stands before me like an eternal spring with new and brilliant clothes.
Life stands before me like an eternal spring with new and brilliant clothes.
The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created spring.
The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created spring.
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.
Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly,
Ring, bluebells, ring!
Winning eye and heart completely,
Sing, robin, read more
Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly,
Ring, bluebells, ring!
Winning eye and heart completely,
Sing, robin, sing!
All among the reeds and rushes,
Where the brook its music hushes,
Bright the caloposon blushes,__
Laugh, O murmuring Spring!
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.
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.
For surely in the blind deep-buried roots
Of all men's souls to-day
A secret quiver shoots.
For surely in the blind deep-buried roots
Of all men's souls to-day
A secret quiver shoots.