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| Hail in the Spring, a start of new beginnings. Creativity awe-inspiring gives a reason to be living. Plant life showing life anew, a wonder to be found. New born lambs playing in the fields, birds nesting all around People enjoying the sun and the warmth, feeling good to be alive. Spring gives a purpose to our lives, a touch of Paradise. | | | | I smile, of course, And go on drinking tea, Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall My buried life, and Paris in the Spring, I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world To be wonderful and youthful, after all. | | |
| Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide, But during March and April None stir abroad Without a cordial interview With God. | | | | Narcotic greens narcotic greens like reeling firmaments disclose in their appearing randomness the sweetest means that you or she or any wandering Thales might choose to be wonder-struck with at the moment when we die | | |
| Tis spring; come out to ramble The hilly brakes around, For under thorn and bramble About the hollow ground The primroses are found. And theres the windflower chilly With all the winds at play, And theres the Lenten lily That has not long to stay And dies on Easter day. | | | | No Winter lasts forever, no Spring skips its turn. April is a promise that May is bound to keep, and we know it. | | |
| Meadowlarks give lusty cheers when spring appears when spring appears. Buds and seeds prick up their ears and blades of grass show eager spears. And only icicles weep tears when spring appears when spring appears. | | | | Spring has again returned. The Earth is like a child that knows many poems. Many, O so many. For the hardship of such long learning she receives the prize. Strict was her teacher. The white in the old mans beard pleases us. Now, what to call green, to call blue, we dare to ask: She knows, She knows! | | |
| My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler breathings of April; the nights and mornings no longer by their Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden. | | | | Dirty days hath September April June and November From January up to May The rain it raineth every day All the rest have thirty-one Without a blessed gleam of sun And if any of them had two-and-thirty Theyd be just as wet and twice as dirty. | | |
| Cherry Blossoms, cherry blossoms. On mountains, in villages. As far as you can see. They look like fog or clouds. They are fragrant in the morning sun. Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms. In full bloom. | | | | Sakura, Sakura. Noyamamo satomo Miwatasu kagiri. Kasumi-ka kumo-ka.... asahi-ni niou Sakura, Sakura, Hanazakari. | | |
| Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow-white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of springs unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last years friends together. | | | | Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower--but if I could understand What you are, root and all, all in all, I should know what God and man is | | |
| All that is sweet, delightful, and amiable in this world, in the serenity of the air, the fineness of seasons, the joy of light, the melody of sounds, the beauty of colors, the fragrance of smells, the splendor our precious stones, is nothing else but Heaven breaking through the veil of this world, manifesting itself in such a degree and darting forth in such variety so much of its own nature. | | | | An altered look about the hills; A Tyrian light the village fills; A wider sunrise in the dawn; A deeper twilight on the lawn; A print of a vermilion foot; A purple finger on the slope; A flippant fly upon the pane; A spider at his trade again; An added strut in chanticleer; A flower expected everywhere ... | | |
| Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year. Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. | | | | And fairy month of waking mirth From whom our joys ensue Thou early gladder of the earth Thrice welcome here anew With thee the bud unfolds to leaves The grass greens on the lea And flowers their tender boon receives To bloom and smile with thee. | | |
| Ahh, the wide almond groves in full white flower Stunning in the morning sun. Old naked Winter in his garb of grays and browns has run. Forsythia blooms come and go in the blink of a yellow Eye, Then, suddenly, mysteriously, Green erupts; and we sigh. | | | | In snowbound, voiceless, mountain depths, to herald spring, pine trees sound in tune. | | |