Spring Poems

War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
The foul tornado, centred at Berlin,
Is over all the width of Europe whirled,
...

In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
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As the Sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley.
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Bluebells carpet the woodland floor
Packed so tightly that insects tip-toe
Softly and quietly between them.
Their beauty unlocks a woodland door
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I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
Altho' it holds but pain.
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IT was a lover and his lass,
   With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass,
   In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
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I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan't be gone long. -- You come too.
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Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But today,
Today we have naming of parts. Japonica
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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!
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In the blue sky just a few specks of gray
In the evening of a beautiful day
Though last night it rained and more rain on the way
And that more rain is needed 'twould be fair to say
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Like a creature hibernating in its burrow
Waiting to come out with the first verdure of spring
The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart
Through the long winter awaiting another spring
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A handful of dreams and desires

In a fortnight of Spring is
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During the spring in my riverine country
Green is every big and small tree,
Soft is every blade of grasses on soil
Cute is every mole and hill;
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I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
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The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
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Let the old snow be covered with the new:
The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.
Let it be hidden wholly from our view
By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.
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Penetrates the wonderful womb of wisdom
Ordained to inspire hope and re-script destiny
Enlightens to minus the miasma of the masses
Trained for titillation and tutored for titivation
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In alien lands I keep the body
Of ancient native rites and things:
I gladly free a little birdie
At celebration of the spring.
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Ye birds! little birds! Thy twitter voice,
All After crippled by 'winter boys;
So After winter comes the spring,
By brings new life where creature sing.
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Spring My Spring
Where you are gone
Leaving this earth so soon
Under the fierce and angry sun
...

early spring
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Spring, wonderful spring
It makes such beautiful flowers
Spring, is my favorite thing
Everywhere you can find new mothers
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Many call you the greatest of seasons, a bringer of life and joy,
Many are fooled, and Fall for this ploy,
Keats and I, we know your guise, veiling yourself in life,
Spring you bring no good, but much strife,
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Let me 'neath fleecy clouds be. For spring is here.
God's creation all for me. For spring is here.

So many glorious gardens to admire,
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An Ode to the Indian Spring
By Joji Varghese Kuncheria
From the Anthology Spring Songs published at Amazon.
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The first signs of Spring bring smiles and joy to us all,
It is the beginning of rebirth in nature,
After the cold winter chills,
As skies of grey,
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As soon as the wind of Chiatra month blew
all the trees are decided to bloom The flowers opened
their lips to reveal the secrets of pollen.
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