He comes! He comes! who loves to bear Soft sunny hours and seasons fair; The swallow hither comes to rest His sable wing and snowy breast.
The first Sunday after Easter settles the weather for the whole Summer.
Although it rains, throw not away thy watering-pot.
Plant your 'taturs when you will, They won't come up before April.
When there are many more swifts than swallows in the Spring, expect a hot and dry Summer.
April cold with dropping rain Willows and lilacs brings again, The whistle of returning birds, And, trumpet-lowing of the herds.
I met Queen Spring in the hanger That slopes to the river gray; Yestreen the thrushes sang her, But she came herself to-day.
When the sloe tree is as white as a sheet, Sow your barley, whether it be dry or wet.
As yet but single, The bluebells with the grasses mingle; But soon their azure will be scrolled Upon the primrose cloth of gold.
April, pride of murmuring winds of Spring, That beneath the winnowed air, Trap with subtle nets and sweet Flora's feet, Flora's feet, the fleet and fair.
Hark! the Hours are softly calling, Bidding Spring arise, To listen to the raindrops falling From the cloudy skies, To listen to Earth's weary voices, Louder every day, Bidding her no longer linger On her charmed way; But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun; By the first bright day of summer It should all be done.
Golden Bill! Golden Bill! Lo! the peep of day; All the air is cool and still, From the elm tree on the hill, Chant away: While the moon drops down the west, Like thy mate upon her nest, And the stars before the sun Melt, like snow-flakes, one by one, Let thy loud and welcome lay Pour along Few notes, but strong.
Fled are the frosts, and now the Fields appear Re-clothed in fresh and verdant Diaper. Thaw'd are the snows, and now the lusty Spring Gives to each mead a neat enamelling. The Palms put forth their Gemmes, and every tree Now swaggers in her leavy gallantry.
Ye who have felt and seen Spring's morning smiles and soul enlivening green, Say, did you give the thrilling transport way? Did your eye brighten, when young lambs at play Leap'd o'er your path with animated pride, Or graz'd in merry clusters by your side?
When in the Spring the gay south-west awakes, And rapid gusts now hide, now clear, the sun, Round each green branch a fitful glimmering shakes, And through the lawns and flowery thickets run (Tossed out of shadow into splendour brief) The silver shivers of the under-leaf.