Children Of The Spring

A poem that brings thoughts of spring to mind. Have you ever stopped and considered what does spring mean to you? Douglas Malloch expresses thoughts of spring in ways that can make you feel the spring as you read it.

Spring seems to be a time when everything wakes up. The black and white of winter leaves us as the season of spring arrives. The sky seems bluer, the color of the first blooming flowers, the grass turning green always seems to pick up people's spirit.

The poem reveals how important spring is to children who are ill; how this time of year can lift their spirits. Just the smells of spring, the song of the birds flying by can be a happy thing for one who is sick.

Spring is the time when windows are opened wide, a gentle and warmer breeze refreshes any home.

The poetry also points out how important spring is to the elderly. The simple thing of seeing a flower bud means much to them. The elderly realize how short life is and appreciate the simple things.

The last stanza of the poem reminds us that this season is the season that the tiredness of winter is rewarded with a lily in bloom!

Famous Poems About The Season    /   Children Of The Spring

Children Of The Spring
Poet: Douglas Malloch

What means the Spring to you? - 
The tree, the bloom, the grass;
Wide fields to wander through;
A primrose path to pass;
Bright sun, and skies of blue;

The songs of singing streams;
The rippling riverside
Awakening from dreams;
Fair-browed and azure-eyed -
Oh, thus the Springtime seems.

Yet not for such as you
She comes with song and voice,
'Tis not for such as you
She makes the heart rejoice.
She comes with skies of blue.

Spring's children are the ill -
'Tis these she comes to cheer;
Upon the window-sill.
Within the chamber drear.
She sits her song to trill.

On narrow cots they lie
Within the quiet room,
Their sky a square of sky
Cut from the inner gloom,
From dreary walls and high.

Spring means so much to these,
The prisoners abed! -
The perfume of the breeze.
The birdsong overhead.
The echoed melodies.

The window open wide -
Behold, the Spring is here!
No more the countryside
Is dim and dark and drear;
Now stronger runs the tide.

The pale and patient wife,
Her babe upon her breast.
Forgets the night, the knife.
And sleeps the sleep of rest.
Awakening to life.

The old, the very old.
Behold in budding Spring
Another year unfold -
And life, a tinsel thing.
Is turned again to gold.

And e'en the empty cot,
Whose Spring has come too late.
The one who now is not,
The one who could not wait.
The Spring has not forgot.

For, see! the Springtime stands
Our drooping eyes to raise
To fair and shining strands;
The Springtime comes and lays
A lily in his hands.

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