seasons

"When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil."

"The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, And the great elms o'erhead Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms, Shot through with golden thread."

"The boyhood of the year."

"Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours Fair Venus' train appear, Disclose the long-expecting flowers, And wake the purple year."

"The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night With comfort are downward gazing."

"And softly came the fair young queen O'er mountain, dale, and dell; And where her golden light was seen An emerald shadow fell. The good-wife oped the window wide, The good-man spanned his plough; 'Tis time to run, 'tis time to ride, For Spring is with us now."

"Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king"

"In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love."

"As quickly as the ice vanishes when the Father unlooses the frost fetters and unwounds the icy ropes of the torrent."

"Eternal Spring, with smiling Verdure here Warms the mild Air, and crowns the youthful Year. * * * * * * The Rose still blushes, and the vi'lets blow."

"The spring's already at the gate With looks my care beguiling; The country round appeareth straight A flower-garden smiling."

"Over increasingly large areas of the United States, spring now comes unheralded by the return of the birds, and the early mornings are strangely silent where once they were filled with the beauty of bird song."

"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."

"All flowers of Spring are not May's own; The crocus cannot often kiss her; The snow-drop, ere she comes, has flown:— The earliest violets always miss her."

"Nothing is so beautiful as Spring— When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring The ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing."

"...the sun had come back over the Forest, bringing with it the scent of May, and all the streams of the Forest were tinkling happily to find themselves their own pretty shape again, and the little pools lay dreaming of the life they had seen and the big things they had done, and in the warmth and quiet of the Forest the cuckoo was trying over his voice carefully and listening to see if he liked it, and wood-pigeons were complaining gently to themselves in their lazy comfortable way that it was the other fellow's fault, but it didn't matter very much..."

"O Spring, of hope and love and youth and gladness Wind-wingèd emblem! brightest, best and fairest! Whence comest thou, when, with dark Winter's sadness The tears that fade in sunny smiles thou sharest? Sister of joy! thou art the child who wearest Thy mother's dying smile, tender and sweet; Thy mother Autumn, for whose grave thou bearest Fresh flowers, and beams like flowers, with gentle feet, Disturbing not the leaves which are her winding sheet."

"Dip down upon the northern shore, O sweet new year, delaying long; Thou doest expectant nature wrong, Delaying long; delay no more."

"Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace: Throws out the snowdrop and the crocus first."

"Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes."

"And the spring comes slowly up this way."

"Daughter of heaven and earth, coy Spring, With sudden passion languishing, Teaching barren moors to smile, Painting pictures mile on mile, Holds a cup of cowslip wreaths Whence a smokeless incense breathes."

"What a glorious time of the year is this! With the warm sun travelling through serene skies, the air clear and fresh above you, which instils new blood in the body, making one defiantly tramp the earth, kicking the snows aside in the scorn of action."

"Is it so small a thing To have enjoy'd the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have loved, to have thought, to have done; To have advanc'd true friends, and beat down baffling foes?"

"The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearl'd; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn;God's in His heaven— All's right with the world!"

"There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of birds, in the ebb and flow of the tides; in the folded bud ready for the spring. There is something infinitely healing in these repeated refrains of nature-the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter."

"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.""

"I come, I come! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountain with light and song: Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves, opening as I pass."

"For surely in the blind deep-buried roots Of all men's souls to-day A secret quiver shoots."

"They know who keep a broken tryst, Till something from the Spring be missed We have not truly known the Spring."

"Listen, can you hear it? Spring's sweet cantata. The strains of grass pushing through the snow. The song of buds swelling on the vine. The tender timpani of a baby robin's heart. Spring."

"And we will know, we will pursue to know Jehovah. Like dawn, his going forth is firmly established. And he will come in like a pouring rain to us; like a spring rain that saturates [the] earth."

"You sons of Zion, be joyful and rejoice in Jehovah your God; for he will give you the autumn rain in the right amount, and he will send upon you a downpour, the autumn rain and the spring rain, as before. The threshing floors will be full of pure grain, and the presses will overflow with new wine and oil. And I will make compensation to you for the years that the swarming locust, the unwinged locust, the voracious locust, and the devouring locust have eaten, my great army that I sent among you."

"Snow-dropped, crocused, and violeted Spring, in the country, was beginning to consider about making her will, and leaving her legacies of full-blown flowers and green fruit to Summer"

"The flowers anew returning seasons bring, But beauty faded has no second spring."

"O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day!"

"If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"

"Spring was late. Hardly a peewit, not a lark to hear. A drab disconsolate world."

"Come, gentle Spring; ethereal Mildness, come!"

"The Clouds consign their treasures to the fields, And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool, Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world."

"All the efforts of several hundred thousand people, crowded in a small space, to disfigure the land on which they lived; all the stone they covered it with to keep it barren; how so diligently every sprouting blade of grass was removed; all the smoke of coal and naphtha; all the cutting down of trees and driving off of cattle could not shut out the spring, even from the city. The sun was shedding its light; the grass, revivified, was blooming forth, where it was left uncut, not only on the greenswards of the boulevard, but between the flag-stones, and the birches, poplars and wild-berry trees were unfolding their viscous leaves; the limes were unfolding their buds; the daws, sparrows and pigeons were joyfully making their customary nests, and the flies were buzzing on the sun-warmed walls. Plants, birds, insects and children were equally joyful. Only men—grown-up men—continued cheating and tormenting themselves and each other. People saw nothing holy in this spring morning, in this beauty of God's world—a gift to all living creatures—inclining to peace, good-will and love, but worshiped their own inventions for imposing their will on each other."

"Nunc omnis ager, nunc omnis parturit arbor; Nunc frondent sylvae, nunc formosissimus annus."

"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."

"Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o' daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea."

"Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze."

"Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly, Ring, blue-bells, 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!"

"What does winter or autumn or spring or summer know of memory. They know nothing of memory. They know that seasons pass and return. They know that they are seasons. That they are time. And they know how to affirm themselves. And they know how to impose themselves. And they know how to maintain themselves, What does autumn know of summer. What sorrows do seasons have. None hate. None love. They just pass."

"The highroad was dry, the lovely April sun was shining warmly, but in the ditches and forest snow still lay on the ground. Harsh, dark, interminable winter was only just receding, and spring was suddenly here, but for Marya Vasilyevna, who sat now in the cart, there was nothing new or engaging in the warmth, or in the languid ethereal woods warming in the breath of spring, or in the black flocks flying off to the fields over giant puddles resembling lakes, or in the strange fathomless sky, into which, it seemed, one could escape with such pleasure."

"Ring out the bells again; like we did when spring began."

"Came the Spring with all its splendor, All its birds and all its blossoms, All its flowers, and leaves, and grasses."