En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Lent Lily

'Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found.

And there's the windflower chilly
With all the winds at play,
And there's the Lenten lily
That has not long to stay
And dies on Easter day.

And since till girls go maying
You find the primrose still,
And find the windflower playing
With every wind at will,
But not the daffodil,

Bring baskets now, and sally
Upon the spring's array,
And bear from hill and valley
The daffodil away
That dies on Easter day.

poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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A Healthier Easter

This is the first Easter
No candy baskets will be here
But we had so many baskets
Each and every year.

The kids are older now
Candy they don’t want anymore
So this Easter the baskets sit empty
Behind the closet door.

Somehow I want the Easter Bunny here
Want those baskets filled with eggs so bright
But my teens want to be healthier
So they make sure that they eat right.

They forfeit sugar and junk
No more Peeps or a big chocolate bunny
But being without Easter Baskets on Easter
Seems to be very odd and funny.

So I am putting the word out
To the Easter Bunny in my town
That I don’t think the teens will mind
If you decide to come around.

Maybe you could leave some health bars
Perhaps some fruit and veggies too
And maybe you could put some books in there
Those things could still say “I love you”.

poem by Connie Webb
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A Yellow Daffodil

When I went to school
oh, so many years ago
I remember a girl
who always wore a yellow daffodil.
She wore it in her hair,
spring, summer and fall
and not a day went passed
when she did not wear it at all.
No one knows why she wore it
nor what or whom it was for.
As the years passed
and we went, our separate ways
I often wonder what had became of
the girl who always wore a yellow daffodil.
I hope she had a happy life
with all the things that bring a radiant spring
and that all her dreams came true.
If you ever see a woman
wearing a yellow daffodil
just tell her that this someone
still remembers her from our childhood spring.

18 September 2009

poem by David Harris
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I Know It's Spring When.....

I know it's spring when blossoms bloom
I see the disappearing gloom
The sun shines bright on children's faces
Children run at fast paces
Spring sales here and there
Spring sales everywhere
Animal eggs hatch
Girls and boys play catch
Easter Bunny hopping around the town
Easter Bunny hopping up and down
Kites are flying through the sky
Now I smell a cherry pie
Now I see a dove
This is why spring is the season that I love

poem by Daniela Valdes
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Flower O' The Year

The laggard year is now at prime
And primrose-time is daffodil-time;
Where do the boys delay? What tether
Hinders them from the heavenly weather,
From violet-time and cowslip-time?

Why do they keep the house so late?
The sweet o' the year is at the gate,
And hear the cuckoo calling, saying:
Up, slug-a-bed! 'Tis time for Maying!
The cuckoo calling early and late.

They have stolen away before the dawn,
No print in the May-dew on the lawn
Betrays the way their light feet taking
Set not the quaking grass to shaking,
Running so light-foot in the dawn.

The primrose and the daffodil weather
Is here, and cowslips troop together;
The lambs frolic in pastures gold,
But since they come not it is cold.
Cold the primrose and daffodil weather.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Champion

Young and a conqueror, once on a day,
Wild white Winter rode out this way;
With his sword of ice and his banner of snow
Vanquished the Summer and laid her low.

Winter was young then, young and strong;
Now he is old, he has reigned too long.
He shall be routed, he shall be slain;
Summer shall come to her own again!

See the champion of Summer wake
Little armies in field and brake:
'Cruel and cold has King Winter been;
Fight for the Summer, fight for the Queen!'

First the aconite dots the mould
With little round cannon-balls of gold;
Then, to help in the winter's rout,
Regiments of crocuses march out.

See the swords of the flag-leaves shine;
See the shield of the celandine,
And daffodil lances green and keen,
To fight for the Summer, fight for the Queen.

Silver triumphant the snowdrop swings
Banners that mock at defeated kings;
And wherever the green of the new grass peers,
See the array of victorious spears.

Daffodil trumpets soon shall sound
Over the garden's battle-ground,
And lovely ladies crowd out to see
The long procession of victory.

Little daisies with snowy frills,
Courtly tulips and sweet jonquils,
Primrose and cowslip, friends well met
With white wood-sorrel and violet.

Hundreds of milkmaids by field and fold;
Thousands of buttercups licked with gold;
Budding hedges and woods and trees -
Spring brings freedom and life to these.

Then the triumphant Spring shall ride
Over the happy countryside;
Deep in the woods the birds shall sing:
'The King is dead--long live the King!'

But Spring is no king, but a faithful knight;
He will ride on through the meadows bright
Till at Summer's feet he shall light him down
And lay at her feet the royal crown.

She will lean down where the roses twine
Between the may-trees' silver shine,
And look in the eyes of the dying knight
Who led his army and won her fight.

She will stoop to his lips and say,
'Oh, live, O love! O my true love, stay!'
While he smiles and sighs her arms between
And dies for the Summer, dies for the Queen.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Farewell To Spring

I saw this morning, with a sudden smart,
Spring preparing to depart.
I know her well and so I told her all my heart.

``Why did you, Spring, your coming so delay,
If, now here, you cannot stay?
You win my love and then unloving pass away.

``We waited, waited, O so long, so long,
Just to hear the ousel's song.
To-morrow 'twill be hushed, to-day that is so strong.

``Day after day, and dawn again on dawn,
Winter's shroud was on the lawn,
So still, so smooth, we thought 'twould never be withdrawn.

`Now that at last your welcome mimic snow
Doth upon the hawthorn blow,
It bides not on the bough, but melts before we know.

``Scarce hath the primrose o'er the sordid mould
Lavished treasure, than behold!
Our wealth of simple joy is robbed of all its gold.

``When to the woods we hie with feet of mirth,
Now the hyacinths have birth,
Swiftly the blue of Heaven fades from the face of earth.

``You with dry gusts and unrelenting wrack
Kept the liquid cuckoo back.
Now, even ere he goes, he turneth hoarse, alack!

``When, in the long warm nights of June,
Nightingales have got their tune,
Their sweet woe dies, and we are beggared of the boon.

``First drops the bloom, then darkens the green leaf;
Everything in life is brief,
Save autumn's deepening gloom and winter's changeless grief.''

Then with a smile thus answered me the Spring:
``To my voice and flight you cling,
For I, before I perch, again am on the wing.

``With you were I the whole year round to stay,
'Twould be you that went away,
Your love made fickle by monotony of May.

``Love cannot live save upon love beyond.
Leaving you, I keep you fond,
Not letting you despair, but making you despond.

`Farewell, and love me still, my lover dear,
Love me till another year,
And you, if you be true, again will find me here.''

Then darker, deeper, waxed the woods; the ground
Flowerless turned and then embrowned;
And less was of sweet scent, and less was of sweet sound.

Mute was the mavis, moulted was the thorn,
Meads were cut, and lambs were shorn,
And I by Spring was left forsaken and forlorn.

Forlorn, forsaken, shall I be until
Primrose peep and throstle shrill,
And in the orchard gleam the outriding daffodil.

Then shall I know that Spring among the trees
Hiding is, and that the breeze
Anew will fling abroad odours and melodies.

poem by Alfred Austin
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Golden Daffodil's

Oh, what joy my eyes behold
To see such beauty there unfold,
And my heart with pleasure fills
When sun from ebbing winter days
Bring forth the Golden Daffodil's.

Lovely flower, majestic king
Who God awakes in early spring
So cloth'd in all your golden hue
No flower on the garden scene
Is as beautiful as you.

With silent voices and knodding heads
Gayly dancing in swirling beds
Your beauty in the garden spills,
And lifts the lonely hearts of all
Oh, Daffodil's, Oh, Daffodil's.

Dazzling in your sunny place
You fill the garden with poise and grace
Your smell is sweet, your color bold,
And for the often pensive mood
You are the flower to the soul.

All too soon under an early spring sky
Leaves will yellow, crumble and die
Sweet flower that we long to stay
Slips away in peaceful sleep
To stir our hearts another day.

By
Richard Netherland Cook

poem by Richard Netherland Cook
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Joy Of Spring

A Spring morning
A warm Breeze
doves cooing softly
Pollen dusted trees

A few brave violets
A red streaked dawn
A very early robin
Earthworms in the lawn

Spring peeper frogs
Smell of dogwood blossoms
Nature’s petroglyphs in muddy bogs
Footprints left by possums

Easter eggs and bonnets
Chocolate rabbits, Missing ears
Jelly beans and sonnets
Spilled easter baskets, children’s tears

Parades,
leafy bowers
Lemonades
Spring showers

Spring mornings
Warm breezes
Deep breaths
Allergic sneezes

Smell of Fresh blossoms
Sound of birds as they sing
Joy of life.. joy of being…
…Joy of Spring

poem by David Whalen
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Easter Parade

In your easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,
Youll be the grandest lady in the easter parade.
Ill be all in clover and when they look you over,
Ill be the proudest fellow in the easter parade.
On the avenue, fifth avenue, the photographers will snap us,
And youll find that youre in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your easter bonnet,
And of the girl Im taking to the easter parade.

song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cuddly Animals and Spring flowers

Nothing brings more cheer into the world
Than a spring full of joyful flowers
After a cold and dreary winter we have
Warm and refreshing showers

Pair it with sweet cuddly animals
For you know what else comes in spring?
Easter is coming and we all share a smile
Because of what this time of year will bring

Little furry chicks and Easter lilies
We use them as delightful décor
We have this to look forward to
After winter has pounded at our door

So put that smile upon your face
And enjoy those fresh spring showers
Get ready to decorate your home, folks
With cuddly animals and spring flowers!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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May Day

Will you go a-maying, a-maying, a-maying,
Come and be my Queen of May and pluck the may with me?
The fields are full of daisy buds and new lambs playing,
The bird is on the nest, dear, the blossom's on the tree.'

'If I go with you, if I go a-maying,
To be your Queen and wear my crown this May-day bright,
Hand in hand straying, it must be only playing,
And playtime ends at sunset, and then good-night.

'For I have heard of maidens who laughed and went a-maying,
Went out queens and lost their crowns and came back slaves.
I will be no young man's slave, submitting and obeying,
Bearing chains as those did, even to their graves.'

'If you come a-maying, a-straying, a-playing,
We will pluck the little flowers, enough for you and me;
And when the day dies, end our one day's playing,
Give a kiss and take a kiss and go home free.'

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.

quote by William C. Bryant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easter

Celebrating the march of spring,
Awaiting what fruitful months bring,
We honour the resurrection,
And use the time for reflection,
Children will get their chocolate fix,
And outside one can hear new born chicks,
Smiles are shared at the holiday,
With loved ones for Easter Sunday,
Family comes to the forefront,
Kids go on an Easter egg hunt,
At last it is the end of Lent,
No more in fasting are days spent,
Blessings from the Easter Bunny,
The days change from cold to sunny,
Plants begin to show their flowers,
There are ever less rain showers.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Dewdrops

The dewdrops on every blade of grass are so much like silver drops
that I am obliged to stoop down as I walk to see if they are pearls,
and those sprinkled on the ivy-woven beds of primroses underneath the
hazels, whitethorns and maples are so like gold beads that I stooped
down to feel if they were hard, but they melted from my finger. And
where the dew lies on the primrose, the violet and whitethorn leaves
they are emerald and beryl, yet nothing more than the dews of the
morning on the budding leaves; nay, the road grasses are covered with
gold and silver beads, and the further we go the brighter they seem to
shine, like solid gold and silver. It is nothing more than the sun's
light and shade upon them in the dewy morning; every thorn-point and
every bramble-spear has its trembling ornament: till the wind gets
a little brisker, and then all is shaken off, and all the shining
jewelry passes away into a common spring morning full of budding
leaves, primroses, violets, vernal speedwell, bluebell and orchis, and
commonplace objects.

poem by John Clare
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New Year Song

WE climb the hill; the mist conceals
That valley where we could not stay;
Surely this hill's crest, gained, reveals
The glory of the sunlit day.
The hill is climbed. Still shadow-land--
Still darkling looms another hill.
Oh, weary feet!--climb that to find
A new ascent, 'mid shadows still!
We dare not stop or think of rest,
This one hill may be all that lies
Between us and our souls' desire--
The splendour of the eastern skies.

Through long long lives we till and tend,
Sow, weed, and water, all in vain;
Without the flower we looked to find,
Each year springs blooms and dies again.
Bowed down with our unanswered prayers,
Our face averted from our past,
We watch each year grow green, and cry,
'Surely this brings our flower at last!'
Failure on failure! What! tired out?
Too tired to live? Heart, dare you die
When this new year may bud and bear
Your longed-for flower of Liberty?

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Easter Flower

Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly
My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground,
Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily
Soft-scented in the air for yards around;

Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf!
Just like a fragile bell of silver rime,
It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief
In the young pregnant year at Eastertime;

And many thought it was a sacred sign,
And some called it the resurrection flower;
And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine,
Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.

poem by Claude McKay
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White Angel the Easter Rabbit

Out of a lovely fantasy…..,
She appeared one Springtime day…..,
And made our world……,
So happy in every way……,
It was a vision so wondrous……,
As we colored our eggs…..,
For the Easter Holiday

White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,

She’d hop, hop, hop….,
All day long…..,
Be dancin’ around……,
And singin’ a song…..,
As Easter came so merrily…..,
She was so much fun for us to see……,

White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
Lovin’ her was a tireless habit……,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,

But poof just like each night and day……,
Her visit soon had to end …..,
So she hop, hop, hopped on her way……,
Off to visit her fairytale friends……,
As we sadly bid farewell to her…….,
She said, “Come on now, don’t cry…..,
I’ll be back again some Easter Day”…..,

White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Pure white gold in 24 karat…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit….! ! !

(2011)

poem by Trade Martin
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Foresight

That is work of waste and ruin--
Do as Charles and I are doing!
Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,
We must spare them--here are many:
Look at it--the flower is small,
Small and low, though fair as any:
Do not touch it! summers two
I am older, Anne, than you.

Pull the primrose, sister Anne!
Pull as many as you can.
--Here are daisies, take your fill;
Pansies, and the cuckoo-flower:
Of the lofty daffodil
Make your bed, or make your bower;
Fill your lap, and fill your bosom;
Only spare the strawberry-blossom!

Primroses, the Spring may love them--
Summer knows but little of them:
Violets, a barren kind,
Withered on the ground must lie;
Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the pretty flowerets die;
Pluck them, and another year
As many will be blowing here.

God has given a kindlier power
To the favoured strawberry-flower.
Hither soon as spring is fled
You and Charles and I will walk;
Lurking berries, ripe and red,
Then will hang on every stalk,
Each within its leafy bower;
And for that promise spare the flower!

poem by William Wordsworth
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Spring Has Sprung

Spring has sprung
With the abundance
Of blossoming flowers

The feel of affection
With kindling of love
When two souls meet

The spring bring such delight
In the early morning light
With hearts of satisfaction

Spring brings sweet smells
Of lily of the valley
Where the green grass grows

Where the water flows
And children are playing
With fun and laughter

One would say that
Spring has sprung
With such loveliness

That can only be felt
This time of year
With such an exhilaration

poem by Scott Austin
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Sweet Wild April

O sweet wild April
Came over the hills,
He skipped with the winds
And he tripped with the rills;
His raiment was all
Of the daffodils.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

O sweet wild April
Came down the lea,
Dancing along
With his sisters three:
Carnation, and Rose,
And tall Lily.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

O sweet wild April,
On pastoral quill
Came piping in moonlight
By hollow and hill,
In starlight at midnight,
By dingle and rill.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

Where sweet wild April
His melody played,
Trooped cowslip, and primrose,
And iris, the maid,
And silver narcissus,
A star in the shade.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

When sweet wild April
Dipped down the dale,
Pale cuckoopint brightened,
And windflower trail,
And white-thorn, the wood-bride,
In virginal veil.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

When sweet wild April
Through deep woods pressed,
Sang cuckoo above him,
And lark on his crest,
And Philomel fluttered
Close under his breast.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

O sweet wild April,
Wherever you went
The bondage of winter
Was broken and rent,
Sank elfin ice-city
And frost-goblin's tent.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

Yet sweet wild April,
The blithe, the brave,
Fell asleep in the fields
By a windless wave
And Jack-in-the-Pulpit
Preached over his grave.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

O sweet wild April,
Farewell to thee!
And a deep sweet sleep
To thy sisters three, -
Carnation, and Rose,
And tall Lily.
Sing hi,
Sing hey,
Sing ho!

poem by William Force Stead
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