A little madness in the Spring
March Wind
March wind is a jolly fellow;
He likes to joke and play.
He turns umbrellas inside out
And blows men's hats away.
He calls the pussy willows
And whispers in each ear,
"Wake up you lazy little seeds;
Don't you know that spring is here?"
"March is a month of considerable frustration - it is so near spring and yet across a great deal
of the country the weather is still so violent and changeable that outdoor activity in our
yards seems light years away."
- Thalassa Cruso
"Last day of Winter,
leafless walnut trees--
form is emptiness.
First day of Spring,
clear sky to Mt. Shasta--
emptiness is form."
- Michael P. Garofalo,
"The March wind roars
Like a lion in the sky,
And makes us shiver
As he passes by.
When winds are soft,
And the days are warm and clear,
Just like a gentle lamb,
Then spring is here."
- Author Unknown
"All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair
The bees are stirring, birds are on the wing,
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of spring."
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter,
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The Plowboy is whooping-anon-anon:
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
The rain is over and gone!"
The trays are up, the hedges broken down
That fenced the haystack, and the remnant shines
Like some old antique fragment weathered brown.
And where suns peep, in every sheltered place,
The little early buttercups unfold
A glittering star or two - till many trace
The edges of the blackthorn clumps in gold.
And then a little lamb bolts up behind
The hill, and wags his tail to meet the yoe;
"The last fling of winter is over ... The earth, the soil itself, has a dreaming quality about it. It is warm
now to the touch; it has come alive; it hides secrets that in a moment, in a little while, it will tell."
- Donald Culross Peattie
"Springtime is the land awakening.
The March winds are the morning yawn."
- Lewis Grizzard, Kathy Sue Loudermilk, I Love You
"Gone were but the Winter,
Come were but the Spring,
I would go to a covert
Where the birds sing;
Where in the whitethorn
Singeth a thrush,
And a robin sings
In the holly-bush.
Full of fresh scents
Are the budding boughs
Arching high over
A cool green house:
Full of sweet scents,
And whispering air
Which sayeth softly:
"We spread no snare;
"Here dwell in safety,
Here dwell alone,
With a clear stream
And a mossy stone.
"Here the sun shineth
Most shadily;
Here is heard an echo
Of the far sea,
Though far off it be."
- Christina Rossetti, Spring Quiet
"Through all the frozen winter
My nose has grown most lonely
For lovely, lovely, colored smells
That come in springtime only.
The purple smell of lilacs,
The yellow smell that blows
Across the air of meadows
Where bright forsythia grows.
The tall pink smell of peach trees,
The low white smell of clover,
And everywhere the great green smell
Of grass the whole world over."
- Kathryn Worth, Smells
"A little madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King."
- Emily Dickenson, # 103
"To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring."
- George Santayana
"Buttercups and daisies,
Oh, the pretty flowers;
Coming ere the spring time,
To tell of sunny hours.
When the trees are leafless;
When the fields are bare;
Buttercups and daisies
Spring up here and there."
- Mary Howitt
"For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins."
- Algernon Charles Swinburne, Atalanta in Calydon
