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Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, hoar Winter's blooming child, delightful Spring. - Mrs. Anna Letitia Barbauld The first pale blossom of the unripened year. - Mrs. Anna Letitia Barbauld But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn? O, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave? - James Beattie As quickly as the ice vanishes when the Father unlooses the frost fetters and unwounds the icy ropes of the torrent. - Beowulf VII 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. - Bible, Song of Solomon (ch. II, v. 11-12) Fled now the sullen murmurs of the North, The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth. - Robert Bloomfield 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. - Michael Bruce, Elegy, written in Spring Showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth; To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back. - William Cullen Bryant Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime. - William Cullen Bryant The breath of springtime at this twilight hour Comes through the gathering glooms, And bears the stolen sweets of many a flower Into my silent rooms. - William Cullen Bryant Let us fill urns with rose-leaves in our May, and hive the thrifty sweetness for December! - Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o' daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea. - Robert Burns, Lament of Mary Queen of Scots Gentle Spring!--in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! For Winter maketh the light heart said, And thou,--makest the sad heart gay. - Charles d'Orleans (Comte d'Angouleme), Spring, (Longfellow's translation) He wakes into music the green forest-bowers. - Willis Gaylord Clark 'T is a month before the month of May, and the spring comes slowly up this way. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge And the spring comes slowly up this way. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Christabel (pt. I) Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze. - William Cowper, Tirocinium (l. 43) 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." - Christopher Pearce Cranch, A Spring Growl in Just-- spring when the world is mud-- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee - e e cummings (Edward Estlin Cummings), Chansons Innocentes 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! - Sarah Foster Davis, Summer Song A little madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown, Who ponders this tremendous scene-- This whole experiment in green, As if it were his own! - Emily Dickinson, Collected Poems (The Centenary Edition) A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown, Who ponders this tremendous scene-- This whole experiment in green, As if it were his own! - Emily Dickinson, No. 1333 It was in the prime Of the sweet spring-time, In the linnet's throat Trembled the love-note, And the love-stirred air Thrilled the blossoms there. Little shadows danced, Each a tiny elf, Happy in large light And the thinnest self. - George Eliot (pseudonym of Mary Ann Evans Cross) April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. - T.S. Eliot (Thomas Stearns Eliot), The Waste Land (pt. I) Spring is strong and virtuous, Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous, Quickening underneath the mould Grains beyond the price of gold. So deep and large her bounties are, That one broad, long midsummer day Shall to the planet overpay The ravage of a year of war. - Ralph Waldo Emerson Displaying page 1 of 5 for this topic: Next >> [1] 2 3 4 5
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