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!
Hoe while it is spring, and enjoy the best anticipations. It is not much matter if things do not turn out well.
That God once loved a garden we learn in Holy writ.
And seeing gardens in the Spring I well can credit it.
No Winter lasts forever, no Spring skips its turn. April is a promise that May is bound to keep, and we know it.
April is a promise that May is bound to keep.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
She turned to the sunlight And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbor: "Winter is dead.
The naked earth is warm with Spring,
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun's kiss glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze.
The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring.
I think that no matter how old or infirm I may become, I will always plant a large garden in the spring. Who can resist the feelings of hope and joy that one gets from participating in nature's rebirth?
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
Science has never drummed up quite as effective a tranquilizing agent as a sunny spring day.
God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world.
I stare out the window and wait for spring,
And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
If we had not winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
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.
People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.
Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.
Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.
Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
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