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.
But (Peresphone) was like, the goddess of flowers." Grover looked offended. "Springtime.
A man is not a bird, to come and go with the springtime.
Yesterday the twig was brown and bare; To-day the glint of green is there; Tomorrow will be leaflets spare; I know no thing so wondrous fair, No miracle so strangely rare. I wonder what will next be there!
It is in this unearthly first hour of spring twilight that earth's almost agonized livingness is most felt. This hour is so dreadful to some people that they hurry indoors and turn on the lights.
Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
Hee that is in a towne in May loseth his spring.
And you're headed to a place with no bath and no shower. So you can just imagine how crazy it is to get up there, take your diaper off, have a urine-soaked crotch, and all you can do is wet a washcloth and wipe your skin off. You also have to do it on landing and spacewalks, too. It's not a ride that makes you springtime fresh.
Ah, if in this world there were no such thing as cherry blossoms, perhaps then in springtime our hearts would be at peace.
Poetry reveals to us the loveliness of nature, brings back the freshness of youthful feelings, reviews the relish of simple pleasures, keeps unquenched the enthusiasm which warmed the springtime of our being, refines youthful love, strengthens our interest in human mature, by vivid delineations of its tenderest and softest feelings, and through the brightness of its prophetic visions, helps faith to lay hold on the future life.
It was that period in the vernal quarter when we may suppose the Dryads to be waking for the season. The vegetable world begins to move and swell and the saps to rise, till in the completest silence of lone gardens and trackless plantations, where everything seems helpless and still after the bond and slavery of frost, there are bustlings, strainings, united thrusts, and pulls-all-together, in comparison with which the powerful tugs of cranes and pulleys in a noisy city are but pigmy efforts.
The youngster in me is still alive and kicking. I was infected by music at a very young age, so it's always kept me younger than springtime.
It follows the seasons, beginning each year with the fond expectancy of springtime and ending with the hard facts of autumn.
There's a word in Japanese for being sad in the springtime - a whole word for just being sad - about how pretty the flowers are and how soon they're going to die.
You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain; I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care. As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown, I have a world apart that is not among men.
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