Spring

Journey’s End ~ A Poem by J. R. R. Tolkien

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Journey’s End

J. R. R. Tolkien

In western lands beneath the Sun
The flowers may rise in Spring,
The trees may bud, the waters run,
The merry finches sing.
Or there maybe ’tis cloudless night,
And swaying branches bear
The Elven-stars as jewels white
Amid their branching hair.

Though here at journey’s end I lie
In darkness buried deep,
Beyond all towers strong and high,
Beyond all mountains steep,
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
Nor bid the Stars farewell.

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Spring by Celia Laighton Thaxter

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Spring

Celia Laighton Thaxter

The alder by the river
 Shakes out her powdery curls;
The willow buds in silver
 For little boys and girls.

The little birds fly over
 And oh, how sweet they sing!
To tell the happy children
 That once again ’tis spring.

The gay green grass comes creeping
 So soft beneath their feet;
The frogs begin to ripple
 A music clear and sweet.

And buttercups are coming,
 And scarlet columbine,
And in the sunny meadows
 The dandelions shine.

And just as many daisies
 As their soft hands can hold
The little ones may gather,
 All fair in white and gold.

Here blows the warm red clover,
 There peeps the violet blue;
O happy little children!
 God made them all for you.

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Fresh New Rose ~ Poem by Guido Cavalcanti

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Fresh New Rose

Guido Cavalcanti

Fresh new rose
Delighting Spring,
By field and stream,
Singing gaily,
I declare your rarity – to the flowers.

Let your rare gifts be
Freshly sung
By old men and young
On every journey:
And, each in its own tongue,
Let the songbirds sing
Evening and morning
The green leaves among. 
Now that the time has come
Let the whole world sing
As is most fitting
Of your high merit:
Who are angelic – among creatures.

Lady, in you there sits
An angel’s likeness:
Lord, how blessed
My desire is!
Your look so joyous
That goes beyond
Nature and custom’s
A thing so wondrous.
The women among us
Call you a living goddess:
And I cannot express
How favoured you seem:
For who can dream – beyond Nature?

Beyond mortal nature
God made your pure beauty
So that you might be
The queen of all here:
So let your gaze from me
Not stray too far away,
And your sweet kindness
Be not cruel to me.
And if you think it wrong
That I should love you,
Don’t hold me guilty too:
Love drives me, against whose course
Strength has no force – nor Measure.

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Spring Night ~ A Poem by Sara Teasdale

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Spring Night

Sara Teasdale

The park is filled with night and fog, 
   The veils are drawn about the world, 
 The drowsy lights along the paths 
   Are dim and pearled.

Gold and gleaming the empty streets, 
   Gold and gleaming the misty lake, 
The mirrored lights light sunken swords, 
   Glimmer and shake.

Oh, is it not enough to be 
Here with this beauty over me?
My throat should ache with praise, and I 
Should kneel in joy beneath the sky. 
Oh, beauty, are you not enough?

Why am I crying after love 
With youth, a singing voice and eyes
To take earth’s wonder with surprise?
Why have I put off my pride, 
Why am I unsatisfied, 

I for whom the pensive night
Binds her cloudy hair with light,
I for whom all beauty burns 
Like incense in a million urns? 
Oh, beauty, are you not enough? 
Why am I crying after love?

I Love Spring

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I took a trip to the botanical gardens today. If your community has a botanical gardens plan a visit. Spring is a beautiful time to be there. The mountain laurel were in bloom. Texas wildflowers were all other the place. Turtles were laying out on a log basking in the warm Texas sun. I caught a mild case of spring fever and it is getting worse by the moment. I love spring. It’s my favorite season. Everything is new. Live wins again.

Stay Strong Good Days are Coming

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“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.” ~ Hal Borland

Life Wins – It Always Wins

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“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.” ~ Suzanne Collins

After Liberation ~ A Poem by Jakebus Cornelis Bloem

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After Liberation

Jakebus Cornelis Bloem

I
Beautiful and radiant, just like then, is the spring,
Cold of morning, but as the days open up
Further, the eternal light is a miracle
For those who have been saved.
In the transparent haze upon the fallow
Land plow once again the slow workhorses
As always, even as the near-by distances
Rumble with war.
To have experienced this, to say this
with body still whole, every time awakening again
To know: it is over, and now forever, the almost
Unbearable servitude—
Worth it it was, to have languished five years,
Now rising up, then giving in again, and not
One of the unborn shall ever fully grasp
Freedom in this way.

II
Regular measure of the returning seasons!
What is the heart that has ever feared,
Knowing spring would come to liberate it,
Radiant as it has ever been.
Ever in the present, indestructible
Life that flowers out above death,
And the smallest of complaints seems barely audible
Where the rye about the ruins grows.

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Today’s Quote: The Storms Will Pass

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Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come. ~ Robert H. Schuller

The Human Seasons: A Poem by John Keats

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The Human Seasons

John Keats

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;

     There are four seasons in the mind of man:

He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear

     Takes in all beauty with an easy span:

He has his Summer, when luxuriously

     Spring’s honied cud of youthful thought he loves

To ruminate, and by such dreaming high

     Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves

His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings

     He furleth close; contented so to look

On mists in idleness—to let fair things

     Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.

He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,

Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

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