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The spring's already at the gate
With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
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The spring's already at the gate
With looks my care beguiling;
The country round appeareth straight
A flower-garden smiling.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the read more
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.
It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.
It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.
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!
Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
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Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year.
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
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.
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
Now spring returns; but not to me returns
The vernal joy my better years have known;
Dim read more
Now spring returns; but not to me returns
The vernal joy my better years have known;
Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns,
And all the joys of life with health have flown.