In April
When beeches bud and lilacs blow,
And Earth puts on her magic green;
When dogwoods bear their vernal snow
And skies grow deep the stars between,—
Then, O ye birds! awake and sing
The gladness at the heart of Spring!
When flowers blossom for the poor,
And Nature heals the hurt of years,
When wondering Love resists the cure,
Yet hopes again, and smiles through tears,—
Then, O ye birds! awake and sing
The gladness at the heart of Spring!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
God please keep the happy
People always happy
And let the Spring season
Of joy pass by smoothly
God don't let the happy
People see her in tears
Since they overlook her
And want to live in cheers
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
poem by Asif Andalib
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Once again the spring has come
Once again the spring has come
and all around blooms,
our faces are wreathed with smiles.
The spring is working wonders
with the entire world
kindling the hearts by springtime thunders.
The spring has brought the warmth,
there is no more colds;
the snow has thawed in our souls;
the teardrops have melted down
and ran away in the Vernal waters,
starlings become the reporters of spring,
our souls bloom together with spring,
our hearts feel like to sing
and the dropping snow do dings.
No one feels perfectly at ease
with the tenderness of springtime breeze.
Our Mother nature promises new things;
new hopes, new dreams it brings.
Once again the spring has come,
flying in the sky like a swallow
inviting us to follow it's flight,
to see the land from the birds-eye view,
to show us how far the spring flew.
Once again the spring has come
to serve our hearts and nature,
to renew everything in our world,
to be in use for a new adventure.
Spring, spring, spring!
The kingdom of immortality!
It comes to show us world's beauty
and wisdom of humans mentality.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Some Other Spring
Irene kitchings / arthur herzog jr.
Some other spring
Ill try to love
Now I still cling
To faded blossoms
Fresh from worn
Left chrushed and torn
Like the love affair I mourn
Some other spring
When twilight falls
Will the night bring
Another to me?
Not your kind
But let me find
Its not true that love is blind
Sunshines around me
But deep in my heart its cold as ice
Love, once youve found me
But can that story unfold twice?
Some other spring
Will my heart awake?
Stirring to sing
Loves magic music
Then forget the old duet
Love in some other spring?
Spring?
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Spring Day
I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing, robin, sing;
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.
I wonder if the springtide of this year
Will bring another Spring both lost and dear;
If heart and spirit will find out their Spring,
Or if the world alone will bud and sing:
Sing, hope, to me;
Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.
The sap will surely quicken soon or late,
The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;
So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,
Or in this world, or in the world to come:
Sing, voice of Spring,
Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Sunset in March
The Spring has come to us again,
flowers are dancing in the rain,
the morning sky returns to blue,
sunset in March, a magic view.
A crocus bloom, blue pearl of Spring
smiles as the robins sing and sing,
watching the skies, I'm singing too,
sunset in March, a magic view.
The lake is waiting for old boats,
a sound of hope so freely floats,
the music that our souls pursue,
sunset in March, a magic view.
There is no time like Spring, indeed,
a heart renewed for worlds in need,
may all our wishes dreams come true,
sunset in March, a magic view.
poem by Marius Alexandru (March 2022)
Submitted by anonym
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May Song
BIRDS in the green of my garden
Blackbirds and throstle and wren,
Wet your dear wings in the tears that are Spring's
And so to your singing again!
Birds in my blossoming orchard,
Chaffinch and goldfinch and lark,
Preen your bright wings, little happy live things;
The May trees grow white in the park!
Birds in the leafy wet woodlands,
Cuckoo and nightingale brown,
Sing to the sound of the rain on green ground--
The rain on green leaves dripping down!
Fresh with the rain of the May-time,
Rich with the promise of June,
Deep in her heart, where the little leaves part,
Love, like a bird, sings in tune!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Nicest Season For One To Die
The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.
If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.
We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.
Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.
poem by Francis Duggan
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While The Birds Sing At The Top Of The Tree
Rivers flow lonely to the sea,
When the sunset is coming down,
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
The garden is flourishing in the spring,
Little pieces of the rain fall on the edge of the street,
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
The cold in the hills,
The forest still sleeps in silence
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
Love always falls and rises,
Leaving happiness, broken hearts and tears,
While the birds sing at the top of the tree.
poem by Lindemberg Pereira da Silva
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Another Spring
If I might see another Spring
I'd not plant summer flowers and wait:
I'd have my crocuses at once
My leafless pink mezereons,
My chill-veined snow-drops, choicer yet
My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.
If I might see another Spring
I'd listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
I'd listen to the lusty herds,
The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I'd find out music in the hail
And all the winds that blow.
If I might see another Spring -
Oh stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in ‘if’ -
If I might see another Spring
I'd laugh today, today is brief
I would not wait for anything:
I'd use today that cannot last,
Be glad today and sing.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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I Owe A Debt To Spring II
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
She brought me wild flowers and
Hardy daffodils,
Beautiful, velvet, green carpeted hills.
She brought the mist of April showers,
With the promised bloom of May flowers.
Birds came back to sin,
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
I see the colors of a rainbow dancing
Across the sky,
Spring came in with a lullaby.
I owe a debt to spring for the love
You bring to me, my love, to me!
I shall plant moss roses, dear spring,
To dance at your feet,
Spring time is the best time for nature's
bouquet of happiness complete...
O, I owe a debt to spring, for you, my love,
For you!
Dorothy Alves Holmes
A Poet Who Loves To Sing
poem by Dorothy Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Song III
HERE'S the Spring-time, Sweet!
Earth's green gown is new,
Lambs begin to bleat,
Doves begin to coo,
Birds begin to woo
In the wood and lane;
Sweet, the tale is true
Spring is here again!
I have been discreet
All the winter through;
Now, before your feet,
Blossoms let me strew.
Flowers, as yet, are few;
Will my lady deign
Take this flower or two?
Spring is here again
Make the year complete,
Give the Spring her due!
All the flowers entreat,
All the song-birds sue.
'Twixt the green and blue
Let Love wake and reign,
Let me worship you--
Spring is here again!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Told You
I told you the winter would go, love,
I told you the winter would go,
That he'd flee in shame when the south wind came,
And you smiled when I told you so.
You said the blustering fellow
Would never yield to a breeze,
That his cold, icy breath had frozen to death
The flowers, the birds, and trees.
And I told you the snow would melt, love,
In the passionate glance o' the sun;
And the leaves o' the trees, and the flowers and bees,
Would come back again, one by one.
That the great, gray clouds would vanish,
And the sky turn tender and blue;
And the sweet birds would sing, and talk of the spring
And, love, it has all come true.
I told you that sorrow would fade, love,
And you would forget half your pain;
That the sweet bird of song would waken ere long,
And sing in your bosom again;
That hope would creep out of the shadows,
And back to its nest in your heart,
And gladness would come, and find its old home,
And that sorrow at length would depart.
I told you that grief seldom killed, love,
Though the heart might seem dead for awhile.
But the world is so bright, and full of warm light
That 'twould waken at length, in its smile.
Ah, love! was I not a true prophet?
There's a sweet happy smile on your face;
Your sadness has flown - the snow-drift is gone,
And the buttercups bloom in its place.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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September In Her Finest
The sun is brightly shining the frogs sing in pond and drain
These shy and tiny amphibians their songs tell us of rain
And Spring is all around me the beauty of the Spring
The wattles in their yellow flowers the birds whistle and sing.
September in her finest she wears her cloak of green
And everywhere one turns to look there's beauty to be seen
A poet in such a Landscape would truly feel inspired
Of talking of Nature's beauty one never could grow tired.
Some pray for an Utopia beyond this Earthly shore
In a world of eternal youth for to live forever more
But this the nearest place to Utopia that i will ever know
And how many more Seasons will i see come and go?
September in her finest it is a lovely day
The tiny wrens hop on the ground in search of insect prey
And birds are whistling on the trees in the afternon sunlight
So much to write of in Nature for those who love to write.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Earth Awakes
Now that the snow has melted,
The rivers flow wildly and sing,
The birds chirp in melody,
And the birth of spring begins.
Flowers slowly waken,
Stretching towards the sun,
Baby Dragonflies, bees and butterflies,
Oh yes! Spring has begun.
Tree's swaying back and forth with life,
Birds singing, playing a flirty game of tag,
Mating season's soon approaching,
Ah! Spring is here at last.
poem by Annalee Hopkins
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Autumn Thoughts
Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers,
And gone the Summer's pomp and show,
And Autumn, in his leafless bowers,
Is waiting for the Winter's snow.
I said to Earth, so cold and gray,
'An emblem of myself thou art.'
'Not so,' the Earth did seem to say,
'For Spring shall warm my frozen heart.'
I soothe my wintry sleep with dreams
Of warmer sun and softer rain,
And wait to hear the sound of streams
And songs of merry birds again.
But thou, from whom the Spring hath gone,
For whom the flowers no longer blow,
Who standest blighted and forlorn,
Like Autumn waiting for the snow;
No hope is thine of sunnier hours,
Thy Winter shall no more depart;
No Spring revive thy wasted flowers,
Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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To Hear Her Sing
To hear her sing--to hear her sing--
It is to hear the birds of Spring
In dewy groves on blooming sprays
Pour out their blithest roundelays.
It is to hear the robin trill
At morning, or the whip-poor-will
At dusk, when stars are blossoming--
To hear her sing--to hear her sing!
To hear her sing--it is to hear
The laugh of childhood ringing clear
In woody path or grassy lane
Our feet may never fare again.
Faint, far away as Memory dwells,
It is to hear the village bells
At twilight, as the truant hears
Them, hastening home, with smiles and tears.
Such joy it is to hear her sing,
We fall in love with everything--
The simple things of every day
Grow lovelier than words can say.
The idle brooks that purl across
The gleaming pebbles and the moss,
We love no less than classic streams--
The Rhines and Arnos of our dreams.
To hear her sing--with folded eyes,
It is, beneath Venetian skies,
To hear the gondoliers' refrain,
Or troubadours of sunny Spain.--
To hear the bulbul's voice that shook
The throat that trilled for Lalla Rookh:
What wonder we in homage bring
Our hearts to her--to hear her sing!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Maiden's Prayer
SPRING, pretty Spring, what treasure do you bring to me?
Green grass and buttercups, cherry-bloom and may?
Sunshine to be glad with me, and little birds to sing to me?
Warm nests to call me along the woodland way?
Spring, happy Spring, what wonder will you do for me?
Light the tulip lanterns, and set the furze a-fire?
Fill your sky with sails of cloud on waves of living blue for me?
Show me green cornfields and budding of the briar?
Spring, darling Spring, my days will not return to me,
You who see them fleeting, you, all time above,
You who move the whole world's heart, ah move one heart to turn to me,
--Bring me a lover, and teach me how to love!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Spring Delirium
Gold days give way to sudden rain,
But what, I ask, of that?
For I am my own man again,
And gloom comes sprawling flat.
Let grouchers grieve and nurse the hump
Because bleak winds still shout;
But I don't care a tupp'ny dump;
From zero - whoop! - my spirits jump:
The daffodils are out.
Hail bloom of golden promise! Hail!
These trumpets sing of hope.
To mock grim Winter's weakening flail
And shame the misanthrope.
All hail! And hail again, for luck.
Hence, cold and clammy doubt!
Come, Spring! Come, honey-bee and suck;
Into this heady nector tuck!
The daffodils are out!
Spring for the young? Ah, foolish claim.
Spring burgeons for the old,
To touch old hearts again with flame
And oust the creeping cold.
So, as each golden cup now spills
Its gladness all about,
I, freed again of age's ills,
Grow dilly with the daffodils.
The daffodils are out!
Yet, am I old? Who said I'm old?
Ah, Spring's sweet alchemy!
Gaze now upon me and behold
A recharged battery.
I waggle my rheumatic knees
And, as the years I flout,
Hot blood incontinently flees
Along my hardening arteries
The daffodils are out!
Birds call; the buds grow fat; I sing
A daft, delicious lay.
Prim primulas are carpeting
My somewhat wobbly way.
Oh, vernal verve! September's spree!
I laugh! I sing! I shout!
With dragonfly and drunken bee
I go right off my rocker. Gee!
The wotsernames are out!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A World Without Birds
In years from now will the children of the future on warm evenings in the prime of Spring
On trees and bushes in groves, woods and parklands when flowers are blooming hear the wild birds sing
For a World without birds would be sad to live in and sad to learn that they are becoming rare
These are sad times for people who love Nature and who for Nature's creatures genuinely do care,
A World without birds to think of even painful something that one would not rather contemplate
For birds seem an integral part of Nature the poets and painters them do celebrate
They have been in the World for perhaps longer than humans they have evolved from the dinosaur age
Humans even use them for their entertainment they keep them in an aviary or a cage
But birds should never be held in captivity as Nature's creatures meant to live naturally
They are not meant to be captives of humans in Nature's World they should live wild and free
For bird lovers it must be disappointing to know their numbers are on the decline
So nice to hear them singing in the gardens when flowers are blooming in the Spring sunshine
The demise of birds the thought even unpleasant a sadder World without them it would be
They are so much an integral part of Nature at least that is how it does seem to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Spring,2004
Spring is bursting
In the Air,
Flowers budding
Everywhere...
Magnolia Blossoms
Open wide,
Daffodills
Both yellow & white...
Spring is Special
Every year,
A Lilac fragrance
In the air...
Dogwoods blooming
Over night
Hyacinths,
So purple and bright...
Spring is here,
It's plain to see
Squirrels scampering
In the trees...
Birds are chirping
From above
Spring Miracles
We Share With Love...
poem by Carmen Strawn
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