It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagara Falls) that my poems are competing.— E. E. cummings
Bumbling Spring Poems quotations
Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower.
Nothing is so beautiful as spring- When weeds in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush.
In the depths of your hopes and desires, lies your silent knowledge of the beyond, and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow, your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Great effort springs naturally from a great attitude.
Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
You can't see Canada across lake Erie, but you know it's there.
It's the same with spring. You have to have faith, especially in Cleveland.
Spring comes: the flowers learn their colored shapes.
If you cannot be a poet, be the poem.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
That God once loved a garden we learn in Holy writ.
And seeing gardens in the Spring I well can credit it.
The poem springs from the half spoken words of the patient.
... When asked, how I have for so many years continued an equal interest in medicine and the poem, I reply that they amount for me to nearly the same thing.
We ought, everyday, to hear a song, read a fine poem, and, if possible, to speak a few reasonable words.
All things seem possible in May.
Break open A cherry tree And there are no flowers;
But the spring breeze Brings forth myriad blossoms.
The world's favorite season is the spring. All things seem possible in May.
A picture is a poem without words.
Spring is when life's alive in everything.
Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.
The longer I live and the more I read, the more certain I become that the real poems about spring aren't written on paper. They are written in the back pasture and the near meadow, and they are issued in a new revised edition every April.
Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
A light exists in Spring Not present in the year at any other period When March is scarcely here.
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing. Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.
God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.
At Delphi I prayed to Apollo that he maintain in me the flame of the poem and I drank of the brackish spring there.
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
Science has never drummed up quite as effective a tranquilizing agent as a sunny spring day.
These are the poems of a traveler and a lover who feels both the terror of time passing and the consolation of eternity. From such tension spring lovely poetic objects, ready for intelligent use.
Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
The first day of spring was once the time for taking the young virgins into the fields, there in dalliance to set an example in fertility for nature to follow. Now we just set the clocks an hour ahead and change the oil in the crankcase.
A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring of tissue, so does every poet put forth a fresh outlay of stuff at the same season.
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
The Spring I seek is in a new face only.
What is all this juice and all this joy?
Every April God rewrites the book of Genesis.
The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and flourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart that is in any manner a lover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giveth unto all lovers courage, that lusty month of May.
May is a pious fraud of the almanac.
Hee that is in a towne in May loseth his spring.
O the green things growing, the green things growing, The faint sweet smell of the green things growing! I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve, Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing.