Spring knows well the workings of the wheel,
Past winters past and winters still to come.
Released from time, the moment spreads its wings;
Infinite, it leaves behind all things,
Neither here nor there, nor to nor from,
Grace reborn within what we call real.

Copyright by
Nicholas Gordon

Various poems and quotes about Spring.

Quote:  Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces up, snow is exhilarating; there is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.

 Summer is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces up, snow is exhilarating; there is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.

Author:                                                                                                                    

John Ruskin 1819-1900, British Critic, Social Theorist

Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.

 T. Nash

I. Spring

SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;

Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,

Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay,

Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,

And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,

Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,

In every street these tunes our ears do greet,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

Spring! the sweet Spring!

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895.  1895.

 Spring’s Immortality

 Mackenzie Bell (b. 1856)

 THE BUDS awake at touch of Spring

 From Winter’s joyless dream;

From many a stone the ouzels sing

By yonder mossy stream.

The cuckoo’s voice, from copse and vale,

Lingers, as if to meet

The music of the nightingale

Across the rising wheat—

The bird whom ancient Solitude

Hath kept forever young,

Unaltered since in studious mood

Calm Milton mused and sung.

Ah, strange it is, dear heart, to know

Spring’s gladsome mystery

Was sweet to lovers long ago—

Most sweet to such as we—

That fresh new leaves and meadow flowers

Bloomed when the south wind came;

While hands of Spring caressed the bowers,

The throstle sang the same.

Unchanged, unchanged the throstle’s song,

Unchanged Spring’s answering breath,

Unchanged, though cruel Time was strong,

And stilled our love in death. 

In the spring of life, in the flower of youth,
Everything is bright and new.
In the summer of life,
Time of growth and change,
Each day brings new dreams to pursue.
In the autumn of life,
There’s a settling down -
Contentment and sureness in what we do.
In the winter of life,
Comes peace and wisdom,
Time to relax and reminisce, too...
But with the passing of these seasons,
Life is still not done, not through,
For there is yet another season,
When each spirit is renewed.
And it is in this calm fifth season,
In this hopeful second spring,
A time of cleansing and rebirth,
A time of new awakening.
Each person’s life will come full circle,
Even as the seasons do,
To start another, different life,
Much better than the one we knew.
-C.A. Schlea, The Fifth Season

Walk lightly in the spring; Mother Earth is pregnant.
-American Indian Proverb, Kiowa

Walk tall as the trees,
live strong as the mountains,
be gentle as the spring winds,
keep the warmth of the summer sun
in your heart, and the great spirit
will always be with you.
-American Indian Proverb, unknown tribe

The year’s at the spring and day’s at the morn,
Morning’s at seven’
The hillsides dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snails on the thorn:
God’s in his heaven –
All’s right with the world!
-Robert Browning

Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.
-Thomas Carlyle

"April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory out of desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in a forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers."

-TS (Thomas Stearns) Eliot,

 Waste Land, The

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the seasons 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

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometines as great as a month.

 Henry Van Dyke