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Springtime, and all the annunciations that go with it;.
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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!
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Stately Spring! whose robe-folds are valleys, whose breast-bouquet is gardens, and whose blush is a vernal evening.
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Still sweet with blossoms is the year’s fresh prime.
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Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, hoar Winter’s blooming child, delightful Spring.
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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.
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‘T is a month before the month of May, and the spring comes slowly up this way.
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The beauteous eyes of the spring’s fair night With comfort are downward gazing.
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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.
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The boyhood of the year.
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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.
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The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers: They call it easing the Spring.
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The first pale blossom of the unripened year.
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The golden line is drawn between winter and summer. Behind all is blackness and darkness and dissolution. Before is hope, and soft airs, and the flowers, and the sweet season of hay; and people will cross the fields, reading or walking with one another; and instead of the rain that soaks death into the heart of green things, will be the rain which they drink with delight; and there will be sleep on the grass at midday, and early rising in the morning, and long moonlight evenings.
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The holy spirit of the Spring Is working silently.
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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.
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The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and flourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart that is in any manner a lover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giveth unto all lovers courage, that lusty month of May.
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The peach-bud glows, the wild bee hums, and wind-flowers wave in graceful gladness.
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The spring comes slowly up the way.
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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.
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