Spring (season)

"Thus came the lovely spring with a rush of blossoms and music, Flooding the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies vernal."

"The holy spirit of the Spring Is working silently."

"Awake! the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet."

"On many a green branch swinging, Little birdlets singing Warble sweet notes in the air. Flowers fair There I found. Green spread the meadow all around."

"Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose, That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang Ah whence and whither flown again, who knows?"

"Gentle Spring!—in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! For Winter maketh the light heart sad, And thou,—thou makest the sad heart gay."

"Hark! the hours are softly calling Bidding Spring arise, To listen to the rain-drops falling From the cloudy skies, To listen to Earth's weary voices, Louder every day, Bidding her no longer linger On her charm'd way; But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun."

"I wonder if the sap is stirring yet, If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate, If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun, And crocus fires are kindling one by one."

"There is no time like Spring, When life's alive in everything, Before new nestlings sing, Before cleft swallows speed their journey back Along the trackless track."

"Spring flies, and with it all the train it leads: And flowers, in fading, leave us but their seeds."

"I sing the first green leaf upon the bough, The tiny kindling flame of emerald fire, The stir amid the roots of reeds, and how The sap will flush the briar."

"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."

"So forth issew'd the Seasons of the yeare: First, lusty Spring, all dight in leaves of flowres That freshly budded and new bloomes did beare, In which a thousand birds had built their bowres That sweetly sung to call forth paramours; And in his hand a javelin he did beare, And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures) A guilt, engraven morion he did weare: That, as some did him love, so others did him feare."

"Now the hedged meads renew Rustic odor, smiling hue, And the clean air shines and twinkles as the world goes wheeling through; And my heart springs up anew, Bright and confident and true, And my old love comes to meet me in the dawning and the dew."

"It is the season now to go About the country high and low, Among the lilacs hand in hand, And two by two in fairyland."

"O tender time that love thinks long to see, Sweet foot of Spring that with her footfall sows Late snow-like flowery leavings of the snows, Be not too long irresolute to be; O mother-month, where have they hidden thee?"

"Once more the Heavenly Power Makes all things new, And domes the red-plough'd hills With loving blue; The blackbirds have their wills, The throstles too."

"The bee buzz'd up in the heat, "I am faint for your honey, my sweet." The flower said, "Take it, my dear, For now is the Spring of the year. So come, come!" "Hum!" And the bee buzz'd down from the heat."

"'Tis spring-tune on the eastern hills! Like torrents gush the summer rills; Through winter's moss and dry dead leaves The bladed grass revives and lives, Pushes the mouldering waste away, And glimpses to the April day."

"And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of spring, And the rosebud breaks into pink on the climbing briar, And the crocus bed is a quivering moon of fire Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring."

"The Spring is here—the delicate footed May, With its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers, And with it comes a thirst to be away, In lovelier scenes to pass these sweeter hours."