SPRING.
Daffy-down-dilly came up in the cold,
Through the brown mould
Although the March breezes blew keen on her face,
Although the white snow lay in many a place.
Daffy-Down-Dilly. A.B. WARNER.
Darlings of the forest!
Blossoming alone
When Earth's grief is sorest
For her jewels gone—
Ere the last snowdrift melts, your tender buds have blown.
Trailing Arbutus. R.T. COOKE.
Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose,
A bright yellow primrose blowing in the spring!
The stooping boughs above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
And the elm-tree for our king!
Wishing: A Child's Song. W. ALLINGHAM.
Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire!
Whose modest form, so delicately fine,
Was nursed in whirling storms,
And cradled in the winds.
Thee when young spring first questioned winter's sway,
And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,
Thee on his bank he threw
To mark his victory.
To an Early Primrose. H.K. WHITE.
O Proserpina!
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou lett'st fall
From Dis's wagon! daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength.
The Winter's Tale, Act iv. Sc. 3. SHAKESPEARE.
The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
My Nannie's Awa'. R. BURNS.
A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him.
And it was nothing more.
Peter Bell. W. WORDSWORTH.
The loveliest flowers the closest cling to earth,
And they first feel the sun: so violets blue;
So the soft star-like primrose—drenched in dew—
The happiest of Spring's happy, fragrant birth.
Spring Showers. J. KEBLE.
Primrose-eyes each morning ope
In their cool, deep beds of grass;
Violets make the air that pass
Tell-tales of their fragrant slope.
Home and Travel: Ariel in the Cloven Pine. B. TAYLOR.
A spring upon whose brink the anemones
And hooded violets and shrinking ferns
And tremulous woodland things crowd unafraid,
Sure of the refreshing that they always find.
Unvisited. M.J. PRESTON.
The modest, lowly violet,
In leaves of tender green is set;
So rich she cannot hide from view,
But covers all the bank with blue.
Spring Scatters Far and Wide. D.R. GOODALE.
Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet,
Thine odor like a key,
Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let
A thought of sorrow free.
The Violet. W.W. STORY.
In kindly showers and sunshine bud
The branches of the dull gray wood;
Out from its sunned and sheltered nooks
The blue eye of the violet looks.
Mogg Megone, Pt. III. J.G. WHITTIER.
Come for arbutus, my dear, my dear,
The pink waxen blossoms are waking, I hear;
We'll gather an armful of fragrant wild cheer.
Come for arbutus, my dear, my dear,
Come for arbutus, my dear.
Come for Arbutus. S.L. OBERHOLTZER.
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star when only one
Is shining in the sky.
Lucy. W. WORDSWORTH.
Of all the months that fill the year,
Give April's month to me,
For earth and sky are then so filled
With sweet variety.
The apple blossoms' shower of pearl,
Though blent with rosier hue,
As beautiful as woman's blush,
As evanescent too.
Apple Blossoms. L.E. LANDON.
And buttercups are coming,
And scarlet columbine,
And in the sunny meadows
The dandelions shine.
Spring. C. THAXTER.