Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Sweet April-time - O cruel April-time!
Year after year returning, with a brow
Of promise, and red lips with longing paled,
And backward-hidden hands that clutch the joys
Of vanished springs, like flowers.
Every April God rewrites the book of Genesis.
Oh, to be in England now that April's there.
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year.
All things seem possible in May.
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.
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
The only thing that could spoil a day was people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.
All through the long winter, I dream of my garden. On the first day of spring, I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy, and my spirits soar.
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.
I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet in a garden.
Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, April-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content.
You can't see Canada across lake Erie, but you know it's there. It's the same with spring. You have to have faith, especially in Cleveland.
Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
Science has never drummed up quite as effective a tranquilizing agent as a sunny spring day.
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.
A gush of bird song, a patter of dew
A cloud and a rainbow's warning;
Suddenly sunshine and perfect blue
An April day in the morning!
The April winds are magical, And thrill our tuneful frames; The garden-walks are passional To bachelors and dames.
Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring?
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