The first day of spring was once the time for taking the young virgins into the fields, there in dalliance to set an example in fertility for nature to follow. Now we just set the clocks an hour ahead and change the oil in the crankcase.
No matter what changes take place in the world, or in me, nothing ever seems to disturb the face of spring.
There is another sort of day which needs celebrating in song -- the day of days when spring at last holds up her face to be kissed, deliberate and unabashed. On that day no wind blows either in the hills or in the mind.
Children hold spring so tightly in their brown fists-just as grownups, who are less sure of it, hold it in their hearts.
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