Ode to Spring

A collection of spring poems 
flowered by some of the greatest word artists. Accompanied by images with wise words to bring spring forward to our minds:  blooming optimism, renewal, inspiration and beauty.

Spring by William Blake 

Sound the flute!
Now it’s mute.
Birds delight
Day and night;
Nightingale
In the dale,
Lark in sky,
Merrily,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.

Little boy,
Full of joy;
Little girl,
Sweet and small;
Cock does crow,
So do you;
Merry voice,
Infant noise,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.

Little lamb,
Here I am;
Come and lick
My white neck;
Let me pull
Your soft wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, merrily, we welcome in the year.

SPRING by BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –          

   When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;          

   Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush          

Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring          

The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; 

   The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush          

   The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush          

With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.          

What is all this juice and all this joy?          

   A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning 

In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,          

   Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,          

Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,          

   Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.  

  Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –          

   When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;          

   Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush          

Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring          

The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; 

   The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush          

   The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush          

With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.          

What is all this juice and all this joy?          

   A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning 

In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,          

   Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,          

Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,          

   Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Spring is like a perhaps hand by E.E. Cummings

Spring is like a perhaps hand 
(which comes carefully 
out of Nowhere)arranging 
a window,into which people look(while 
people stare
arranging and changing placing 
carefully there a strange 
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps 
Hand in a window 
(carefully to 
and fro moving New and 
Old things,while 
people stare carefully 
moving a perhaps 
fraction of flower here placing 
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

O were my love yon Lilac fair

 by Robert Burns

Spring by Robert Burns
O were my love yon Lilac fair,  
  Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,  
  When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn         
  By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,  
  When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d. 
O gin my love were yon red rose,  
  That grows upon the castle wa’;    
And I myself a drap o’ dew,  
  Into her bonie breast to fa’!
O there, beyond expression blest,  
  I’d feast on beauty a’ the night;
Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
  Till fley’d awa by Phoebus’ light!

A prayer in Spring 

by Robert Frost

In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year, 
I walked the road beside my dear. 
The trees were black where the bark was wet. 
I see them yet, in the spring of the year. 
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach 
That was out of the way and hard to reach. 

In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year, 
I walked the road beside my dear. 
The rooks went up with a raucous trill. 
I hear them still, in the fall of the year. 
He laughed at all I dared to praise, 
And broke my heart, in little ways. 

Year be springing or year be falling, 
The bark will drip and the birds be calling. 
There's much that's fine to see and hear 
In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year. 
'Tis not love's going hurt my days. But that it went in little ways. 

A light exists in spring

by Emily Dickenson

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That science cannot overtake,
But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,
Or noon's report away,
Without the formula of sound,
It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament. 

Lines written in early spring

by William Shakespere

I HEARD a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:---
But the least motion which they made,
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man? 

To Spring

by William Blake

O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

The hills tell each other, and the listening
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languished head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.

Spring Pools

by Robert Frost

These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on. 

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods -
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
From snow that melted only yesterday. 

Spring

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers

Still I rise

by Maya Angelou

Shattered, but I'm not broken
Wounded, but time will heal
Heavy the load, the cross I bear
Lonely the road I trod, I dare
Shaken, but here I stand
Weary, Still I press on
Long are the nights, the tears I cry
Dark are the days, no sun in the sky, yes

Yet still I rise
Never to give up
Never to give in against all odds
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds
At times I feel low
Yet still I rise

Sometimes I'm troubled, but not in despair
Struggling, I make my way through
Trials, they come to make me strong
I must endure, I must hold on

Yet still I rise
Never to give up
Never to give in against all odds
Yet still I rise
High above the clouds
At times I feel low
Yet still I rise
Above all my problems
Above all my eyes can see
Knowing God is able to strengthen me
To strengthen me

SOURCES:  

 poets.org 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org

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