Seasons
Oh the cheerful Budding-time!
When thorn-hedges turn to green,
When new leaves of elm and lime
Cleave and shed their winter screen;
Tender lambs are born and 'baa,'
North wind finds no snow to bring,
Vigorous Nature laughs 'Ha, ha,'
In the miracle of spring.
Oh the gorgeous Blossom-days!
When broad flag-flowers drink and blow,
In and out in summer-blaze
Dragon-flies flash to and fro;
Ashen branches hang out keys,
Oaks put forth the rosy shoot,
Wandering herds wax sleek at ease,
Lovely blossoms end in fruit.
Oh the shouting Harvest-weeks!
Mother earth grown fat with sheaves
Thrifty gleaner finds who seeks;
Russet-golden pomp of leaves
Crowns the woods, to fall at length;
Bracing winds are felt to stir,
Ocean gathers up her strength,
Beasts renew their dwindled fur.
Oh the starving Winter-lapse!
Ice-bound, hunger-pinched and dim;
Dormant roots recall their saps,
Empty nests show black and grim,
Short-lived sunshine gives no heat,
Undue buds are nipped by frost,
Snow sets forth a winding-sheet,
And all hope of life seems lost.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Related quotes
Hendecasyllabics
In the month of the long decline of roses
I, beholding the summer dead before me,
Set my face to the sea and journeyed silent,
Gazing eagerly where above the sea-mark
Flame as fierce as the fervid eyes of lions
Half divided the eyelids of the sunset;
Till I heard as it were a noise of waters
Moving tremulous under feet of angels
Multitudinous, out of all the heavens;
Knew the fluttering wind, the fluttered foliage,
Shaken fitfully, full of sound and shadow;
And saw, trodden upon by noiseless angels,
Long mysterious reaches fed with moonlight,
Sweet sad straits in a soft subsiding channel,
Blown about by the lips of winds I knew not,
Winds not born in the north nor any quarter,
Winds not warm with the south nor any sunshine;
Heard between them a voice of exultation,
'Lo, the summer is dead, the sun is faded,
Even like as a leaf the year is withered,
All the fruits of the day from all her branches
Gathered, neither is any left to gather.
All the flowers are dead, the tender blossoms,
All are taken away; the season wasted,
Like an ember among the fallen ashes.
Now with light of the winter days, with moonlight,
Light of snow, and the bitter light of hoarfrost,
We bring flowers that fade not after autumn,
Pale white chaplets and crowns of latter seasons,
Fair false leaves (but the summer leaves were falser),
Woven under the eyes of stars and planets
When low light was upon the windy reaches
Where the flower of foam was blown, a lily
Dropt among the sonorous fruitless furrows
And green fields of the sea that make no pasture:
Since the winter begins, the weeping winter,
All whose flowers are tears, and round his temples
Iron blossom of frost is bound for ever.'
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Autumn Falling Leaves
When all have been and gone away,
Like leaves from green to amber orange,
Falling down and to decay,
Is the time for all in nature to fall,
And the leaves on the trees show it all,
Autumn and its falls of fall,
Where all the branches have dropped their leaves,
All have gone except the evergreens,
Showing signs to us that live among,
Four seasons weather,
Where Autumn is,
Just like in life,
When full circle of life is known,
A start in spring where buds appear,
Then in summer full bloom trees will be,
Hence, fall shows all,
When nature falls,
Begining another season,
Winter and chill tempetures,
Where nature decays,
And leaves do fall,
To generate again,
Renewing its life,
Come spring again,
Untill then,
Autumn sheads its leaves of blossom and blooms,
And soon again autumn begins,
From new to old,
And then old to new,
Buds in spring and leaves of green,
Showing birth from what did decayed,
And brought forth from,
What was bear on the trees,
From where beneath was where once,
Those Autumn falling leaves.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Seasons of the Heart
The different hues that deck the earth
All in our bosoms have their birth;
'Tis not in the blue or sunny skies,
'Tis in the heart the summer lies!
The earth is bright if that be glad,
Dark is the earth if that be sad:
And thus I feel each weary day-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
In vain, upon her emerald car,
Comes Spring, 'the maiden from afar,'
And scatters o'er the woods and fields
The liberal gifts that nature yields;
In vain the buds begin to grow,
In vain the crocus gilds the snow;
I feel no joy though earth be gay-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
And when the Autumn crowns the year,
And ripened hangs the golden ear,
And luscious fruits of ruddy hue
The bending boughs are glancing through,
When yellow leaves from sheltered nooks
Come forth and try the mountain brooks,
Even then I feel, as there I stray-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
And when the winter comes at length,
With swaggering gait and giant strength,
And with his strong arms in a trice
Binds up the streams in chains of ice,
What need I sigh for pleasures gone,
The twilight eve, the rosy dawn?
My heart is changed as much as they-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
Even now, when Summer lends the scene
Its brightest gold, its purest green,
Whene'er I climb the mountain's breast,
With softest moss and heath-flowers dress'd,
When now I hear the breeze that stirs
The golden bells that deck the furze,
Alas! unprized they pass away-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
But when thou comest back once more,
Though dark clouds hang and loud winds roar,
And mists obscure the nearest hills,
And dark and turbid roll the rills,
Such pleasures then my breast shall know,
That summer's sun shall round me glow;
Then through the gloom shall gleam the May-
'Tis winter all when thou'rt away!
poem by Denis Florence MacCarthy
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Hopes
A PRINCESS, sleeping in enchanted bowers,
Earth springs to waking at Spring's voice and kiss,
And after winter's cold, unlovely hours,
Laughs out to find how beautiful she is.
Spring flings a song across the field and fold,
And sighs it through the glad wood's tangled ways;
And million, million tales of love are told,
And dreams are dreamed of undivided days.
In hollows where so late but dead leaves lay,
Through the dead leaves the primroses push up;
And wind-flowers fleck the copse, and fields are gay
With daisies and the budding buttercup.
So in our hearts, though thick the dead leaves lie
Of grief--heaped up by winds of old despair--
May there not be a spring-time by-and-by,
When flowers of joy shall blossom even there?
So long has Winter held our hearts in his,
We dare not dream of Spring and all her flowers?
Ah! the undreamed-of happiness it is
That comes--the dreamed-of joy is never ours!
When late the trees were brown and hedges bare,
And keen east wind cut sharp as human pain,
Did the Earth guess how soon she would be fair
With Spring's dear dainty loveliness again?
We do not guess of joy, but hope alone--
Like life's mysterious force that thrills the earth--
Lives in our souls, unrecognised, unknown,
Till time shall bring unhoped-for joy to birth.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Days of Spring Are Near
The days of spring are near
With the flowing water around
In every heart of youth to steer
That still with the winter's bound
So lovely as each loneliness
And black as rocks in the hills
These condense come with caress
As water splashes and spills
The youth of new springtime's here
Is in every life and brawl
Where the falls shall touch and bear
In its freshness of its early call
And bring mystics wind to blow
While the leaves are becoming green
Away is then all winter's snow
With the life's sullenness between
The days of spring thoughts steer
Into the young days fairly bright
And become here free everywhere
With returning of our summer light
To lift the hearts to higher grounds
And there bring us peace of mind
Fill up the air with springtime sounds
Leaving the dusky diffuses behind
(*never since the middle summer's spring, met we— Shakespeare [I could also use 'freedom' instead of 'spring'])
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The summer it snowed
Blue skies
yards of green
flowers of mulitude
among such wonderess gifts
I walk towards my ever nearing
winter
My lungs full of dirty snow
I hear not the singing of birds
but the calling of my black forcast
Summer
kids play
boats sail
I succum
no longer able to shovel
the snow away
Yet in peace in tread
for months are now weeks
and soon weeks will be days
For me spring brought fall
and the summer brought
snow
and the winter will bring
my forever peace
poem by Vincent Armone
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A Dream Of Summer
Bland as the morning breath of June
The southwest breezes play;
And, through its haze, the winter noon
Seems warm as summer's day.
The snow-plumed Angel of the North
Has dropped his icy spear;
Again the mossy earth looks forth,
Again the streams gush clear.
The fox his hillside cell forsakes,
The muskrat leaves his nook,
The bluebird in the meadow brakes
Is singing with the brook.
'Bear up, O Mother Nature!' cry
Bird, breeze, and streamlet free;
'Our winter voices prophesy
Of summer days to thee!'
So, in those winters of the soul,
By bitter blasts and drear
O'erswept from Memory's frozen pole,
Will sunny days appear.
Reviving Hope and Faith, they show
The soul its living powers,
And how beneath the winter's snow
Lie germs of summer flowers!
The Night is mother of the Day,
The Winter of the Spring,
And ever upon old Decay
The greenest mosses cling.
Behind the cloud the starlight lurks,
Through showers the sunbeams fall;
For God, who loveth all His works,
Has left His hope with all!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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There and back again for M 'lady Chitra
There are no blossoms to be seen.
They’ve served their turn and left the stage
The trees are clad in shades of green
One further step on their passage
from the bare twigs of winter time.
Stark silhouettes against the sky
then blossom time which is sublime
Providing pleasure for the eye/
The trees are in their summer dress
More subtle than their spring attire.
Waiting for autumn to impress
with leaves that seem to be on fire.
The autumn winds well strip them bare
and spread their glory on the ground.
A coloured blanket everywhere.
and twigs now dancing to the sound
of early winter gales that blow.
Creating eerie harmonies,
bare branches moving to and fro
produce discordant melodies.
The trees endure the winters rage,
the bitter cold and falling snow,
The know it’s just another stage
they’re well prepared to undergo.
Before the welcome spring returns
to prompt new tender leaves to grow
Followed by blossoms in their turn.
As seasons come and seasons go,
07/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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To A Tulip-Bulb
SLEEP first,
And let the storm and winter do their worst;
Let all the garden lie
Bare to the angry sky,
The shed leaves shiver and die
Above your bed;
Let the white coverlet
Of sunlit snow be set
Over your sleeping head,
While in the earth you sleep
Where dreams are dear and deep,
And heed nor wind nor snow,
Nor how the dark moons go.
In this sad upper world where Winter's hand
Has bound with chains of ice the weary land.
Then wake
To see the whole world lovely for Spring's sake;
The garden fresh and fair
With green things everywhere,
And winter's want and care
Banished and fled;
Primrose and violet
In every border set,
With rain and sunshine fed.
Then bless the fairy song
That cradled you so long,
And bless the fairy kiss
That wakened you to this--
A world where Winter's dead and Spring doth reign
And lovers whisper in the budding lane.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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How January Is Propelled To Spring
Chill January’s snow falls thick and fast
Propelled by blinding blizzard’s biting blast,
So soft white blankets bind the earth for days,
Though spring means drifts shall not lie long nor last.
Bleak January’s rain falls hard and long
Impelled by fierce Atlantic gales, full strong
So even mighty oaks bow in their wake
Till fury fades to calm in spring’s sweet song.
Wild January’s storms shall shed their sting,
Repelled by sun, as winter spins to spring,
So kinder, temperate breezes gently blow
To melt the snow, that all the fields can sing.
Mean January’s curse will never stay,
Dispelled by hopes of ever-lengthening day,
So gardens don spring coats of cheerful hues
As colour’s charm returns where all was grey.
Cruel January’s cloak of white shall yield,
Compelled to turn to green in springtime’s field,
So leaping lambs can clothe the hills again
And cattle quit the comfort of the bield.
Grim January’s gloom will end, by mirth
Expelled, as warmth returns to cheer the earth,
So birds will nest and leaves begin to spring
And dormant buds burst, bearing brand-new birth.
Harsh January’s coldness is compelled
To change, as dismal drabness is expelled.
Repelled by spring, impelled, the frost must flee;
So, doubts dispelled, to warmth we are propelled.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Winter's Cold
As the Weather turns colder
the landscape changes colorfully
beautiful shades of greens to lovely fall colors
to the cold of gray and whites
leaves tumble from the branches above
the temperature dropping so fast
send chills down our spines
time to bundle up for a cold winter season
Snow and cold will be upon us, sooner than we want
each winter brings a new tale
either freezing temperatures on heavy snows, sometimes both
snow brings skiers, sledders, skaters, ice fishermen to life
snow forts to snowmen everywhere
the beautiful white landscape comes to life
the sun's rays reflecting off the crystal snow
like glitter tossed around
so breathe taking to see and to enjoy
bundled up inside drinking hot chocolate
waiting for summer to come
beautiful winter turn your cold off and send us our summer sooner.
I miss the summer heat and beautiful outdoors
old man winter does bring some joy,
but for most it brings cold and snow
time for stories around the fireplace with Mom and Dad
hot cocoa and homemade cookies
stay warm for winter will come and go
poem by Michael Peterson
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April
'T is the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird
In the wind-shaken elm or the maple is heard;
For green meadow-grasses wide levels of snow,
And blowing of drifts where the crocus should blow;
Where wind-flower and violet, amber and white,
On south-sloping brooksides should smile in the light,
O'er the cold winter-beds of their late-waking roots
The frosty flake eddies, the ice-crystal shoots;
And, longing for light, under wind-driven heaps,
Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps,
Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers,
With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers
We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south!
For the touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth;
For the yearly evangel thou bearest from God,
Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod!
Up our long river-valley, for days, have not ceased
The wail and the shriek of the bitter northeast,
Raw and chill, as if winnowed through ices and snow,
All the way from the land of the wild Esquimau,
Until all our dreams of the land of the blest,
Like that red hunter's, turn to the sunny southwest.
O soul of the spring-time, its light and its breath,
Bring warmth to this coldness, bring life to this death;
Renew the great miracle; let us behold
The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled,
And Nature, like Lazarus, rise, as of old!
Let our faith, which in darkness and coldness has lain,
Revive with the warmth and the brightness again,
And in blooming of flower and budding of tree
The symbols and types of our destiny see;
The life of the spring-time, the life of the whole,
And, as sun to the sleeping earth, love to the soul!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Isn't She Lovely
Isn't she lovely? like a spring morning
Lilacs of purple and white grow in my heart
Oh! too think she is mine
What a wonderful thought!
When the wind howls and the frost comes
When snow falls on the summer fruit
She remains with comfort like a winter fire
Light a fire in the cold of winter, love is warm
Grey days, storms, rain that seems to never quit
A true companion is an eternal garden
Roses grow in smiles of joy
She wears a blue dress
Country smiles, river dreams, music of the sea
I am blessed with the songs of the forest
Isn't she lovely? when the leaves fall
Isn't she lovely? when snow is in her honey hair
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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As long as I have you with me
This day passing at autumns end
with stripped trees, some flowers spent
and still two doves fly by
in a frivol of feathers
as if charming each other
the blue sky has a cold wind
touching with the breath
from a ice dragon
and the sun’s rays
has lost their compassion
and are growing dim
but another spring,
another summer will surely come,
even if my years
are nearly spent and at their brim
and this is no winter of my despair
while a smile’s on your face
and the fire in your eyes
makes my blood race
and everywhere live is still abounding
and your fine care
is in every little thing about me.
Let any winter then come
even if it rains for days long,
even if snow like a miracle falls
and frost leaves its mark
as long as I have you with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wintertime
Snow falling on the ground,
Little white flakes to be found.
Lift your head to the sky,
And watch the snow zippin’ by.
Cold wind at your back,
Nothing winter seems to lack.
A blanket of snow covers the Trees,
Winter can’t end. No please!
Can’t Jack Frost do his Job?
For a little longer, don’t make me sob.
Can’t I stay in this Wonderland?
I don’t want to return to golden sand.
But under the layer of cold, white snow,
Lies little seedlings ready to show.
I must say a grateful farewell,
To winter fun, for it was swell.
And say hello to summer sweat,
Instead of getting cold, we get wet.
Hello Spring! Hello Summer!
Goodbye Fall! Goodbye Winter!
New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
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Meditations after Li Po for M lady Helen
I
I follow in the footsteps
of old poets of the past.
As geese fly south in autumn.
Instinct is my only guide.
My attempts to emulate,
may not bear such worthy fruit.
I can only do my best
II
The trees discard all their leaves
and face winter nakedly.
I ask myself why this should be
but I receive no reply.
Winter winds pass freely through
the leafless twigs and branches.
Dead leaves return to the earth.
III
The trees stand as sentinels
coated with white bitter frost
Bowing in submission
to the power of the wind.
Better to bend than to break,
the trees know instinctively
the wind dies as spring returns.
IV
Only when the time is right
the geese will return once more.
The trees will put forth new leaves,
flowers spring up underfoot
The spring sunshine will inspire
Poets to take up their brush
and ink: To write poetry.
21-Oct-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Nature's Season's
Season's come and season's go,
There are four in each year,
Of our time keeping.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
In other parts of the world,
Their season's are called something else,
Each Season is,
Of different type,
Yet,
Two and Two,
To begin and become,
Spring shows the begining,
Of growth and new season,
So for plants,
Vegetation,
Spring Chickens,
Spring Lambs,
The Calflings,
The Fouls,
All come in the Spring,
And flourish in the Summer,
Summer shows bloom,
From the plants to the Fouls,
And all are seen in full bloom,
Even the birds and the bees,
Sing the songs,
Of spring and summer,
With the Sun's rays,
That shows nature,
In full bloom,
By the time,
All is in full bloom,
And what shows and blooms,
Blossoms all summer,
And just when we are relaxed,
And see no clouds in the sky,
The seson changes,
Beginning with,
The fall,
Autumn's,
Season,
Commences to begin,
Where,
All in bloom,
Falls away and decays,
While the rest,
Fly away,
And,
Migrate,
Or,
Hibernate,
And just when,
We have seen it all disappear,
The frost and snow,
Covers all over,
And chills the air,
Where the chilling effect,
Kills off all decay,
And the blue ice time period,
Takes over for a time,
Chilling,
Freeezing,
Keeping everything beneath the earth,
As winter sets itself right in,
And far beneath the froasted earth,
Is all in nature,
Rekindling itself,
To regrowth itself,
And then spring growth,
Again,
Next season,
That starts the circle of life,
2 x 2 = 4,
The four seasons,
Of,
Our circle of life,
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
The four seasons,
Of ours,
That is 2 x 2,
Spring and Summer,
Then,
Autumn and Winter,
That makes it known,
As 4 seasons,
To us all.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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