Seasons (Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter)

A hush is over everything— / Silent as women wait for love, / The world is waiting for the spring.

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,

 

The moan of doves in immemorial elms,

 

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,

 

In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove;

 

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

 

The last red leaf is whirled away,

 

Now it is autumn and the falling fruit

 

Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers,

 

Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet ’tis early morn: Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle horn.

 

In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

 

In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon.

 

Yisterday fair up sprang the flouris, This day thai are all slane with schouris; And fowles in forrest that sang cleir Now walkis with a drery cheir; Full caild are baith thair beddis and bouris.

 

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees / Rock’d in the cradle of the western breeze.

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.

April hath put a spirit of youth in every thing.

I love best to have each thing in its season, doing without it at all other times.

Cheerfulness, like spring, opens all the blossoms of the inward man.

Youth is like spring, an overpraised season— delightful if it happen to be a favored one, but in practice very rarely favored and more remarkable, as a general rule, for biting east winds than genial breezes.

THERE ARE ONLY TEN MINUTES IN THE LIFE OF A PEAR WHEN IT IS PERFECT TO EAT.

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being,

In the bleak mid-winter