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SPRING
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[ Also see Autumn Flowers Indian Summer Love Nature Seasons Summer Weather Winter ]

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.
      - Christina Georgina Rossetti, Spring
         (st. 3)

I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
  If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
    If frozen snowdrops fell as yet the sun,
      And crocus fires are kindling one by one.
      - Christina Georgina Rossetti,
        The First Spring Day (st. 1)

Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel for the first violet which March brings us, the fragrant pledge of the new-fledged year.
      - Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller

When the measured dance of the hours brings back the happy smile of spring, the buried dead is born again in the life-glance of the sun. The germs which perished to the eye within the cold breast of the earth spring up with joy in the bright realm of day.
      - Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller

Spring flies, and with it all the train it leads:
  And flowers, in fading, leave us but their seeds.
      - Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller,
        Farewell to the Reader

I sang 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.
      - Clinton Scollard, Song in March

When well-apparelled April on the heel of limping winter treads.
      - William Shakespeare

Winking Maybuds begin to ope their golden eyes.
      - William Shakespeare

O, how this spring of love resembleth
  The uncertain glory of an April day,
    Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
      And by and by a cloud takes all away!
      - William Shakespeare,
        The Two Gentlemen of Verona
         (Proteus at I, iii)

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 build 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.
      - Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
         (bk. VII, canto VII, Legend of Constancie, st. 28)

O fresh-lit dawn! immortal life!
  O Earth's betrothal, sweet and true!
      - Edmund Clarence Stedman

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 come to meet me in the dawning and the dew.
      - Robert Louis Stevenson,
        Poem written in 1876

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.
      - Robert Louis Stevenson, Underwoods,
        "It is the Season Now to Go"

The trumpet winds have sounded a retreat,
  Blowing o'er land and sea a sullen strain;
    Usurping March, defeated, flies again,
      And lays his trophies at the Winter's feet.
        And lo! where April, coming in his turn,
          In changeful motleys, half of light and shade,
            Leads his belated charge, a delicate maid,
              A nymph with dripping urn.
      - Richard Henry Stoddard

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?
      - Algernon Charles Swinburne,
        A Vision of Spring in Winter

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
  And all the season of snows and sins;
    The days dividing lover and lover,
      The light that loses, the night that wins;
        And time remembered is grief forgotten,
          And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
            And in green underwood and cover
              Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
      - Algernon Charles Swinburne,
        Atalanta in Calydon

In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson

Once more the Heavenly Power
  Makes all things new,
    And domes the red-ploughed hills
      With loving blue;
        The blackbirds have their wills,
          The throstles too.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, Early Spring

Dip down upon the northern shore,
  O sweet new year, delaying long;
    Thou doest expectant nature wrong,
      Delaying long; delay no more.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam (82)

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.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, Locksley Hall
         (st. 9)

The boyhood of the year.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson,
        Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere
         (st. 3)

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.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, The Forester
         (act IV, sc. 1)

At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun,
  And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
    Th' expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold;
      But, full of life and vivifying soul,
        Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin,
          Fleecy and white, o'er all surrounding heaven.
      - James Thomson (1)

See where surly Winter passes off,
  Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:
    His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill,
      The shattered forest and the ravished vale;
        While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch,
          Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost,
            The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.
      - James Thomson (1)

Come, gentle Spring; ethereal Mildness, come!
      - James Thomson (1), Seasons--Spring (l. 1)


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