William Cullen Bryant
The country ever has a lagging Spring,
Waiting for May to call its violets forth,
And June its roses- showers and sunshine bring,
Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth;
To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,
And one by one the singing-birds come back.
Within the city's bounds the time of flowers
Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day,
Such as full often, for a few bright hours,
Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May,
Shine on our roofs and chase the wintry gloom-
And lo! our borders glow with sudden bloom.
The Lawn Mower
Poet: Sarah Barber
When we finally flip it over
the fireflies are out. The neighbor boy
has had his stitches in so I can finally admit
I think it is all fantastic: the suck
of the spark plug undone, the stuck blade
bent into the guard, and the sound
of the hammerís head reshaping the metal.
In this our suburban Eden we've only
a teenage Adam too dreamy to manage
his motorized scythe and silly Eve leaving
her coffee cups and plastic plant pots
behind in the grass. Though it's a long way
from a fall, this spring's first disaster,
I did like the thin thread of red
on his upper lip, and I like my mower
turned over among the glowworms,
a monstrous dandelion as unnatural as we
are, out in a garden, with our untidy
golds and our dangerous sharps.
More Verses on Spring:
Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on.
Spring forever appears
the soothing music part
of lyrics unspoken.
It thaws the frozen fears,
mends the wounded heart
that Winter has broken.
The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven -
All's right with the world!
I've banished Winter, saith the Spring,
Awake! arise, ye flowers!
Brisk breezes blow,
Bright sunshine glow,
And rouse the young Year's powers.
Henry James Slack