Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
And hear the pleasant cockoo, loud and long - The simple bird that thinks two notes a song.
The Spring I seek is in a new face only.
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, a box where sweets compacted lie.
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
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.
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 lightning to hear him sing.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
April is a promise that May is bound to keep.
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 is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
Sweet April showers do spring May flowers.
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
The world's favorite season is the spring. All things seem possible in May.
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.
She turned to the sunlight And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbor: "Winter is dead.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.
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