Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not… — Thomas Nash Copy Share Image
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers: Of April, May, or June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts,… — Robert Herrick Copy Share Image
If spring came but once a century instead of once a year, or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake and… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
Nothing is so beautiful as spring- When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens,… — Gerard Manley Hopkins Copy Share Image
