Spring Poetry?

What is your favorite Spring poem?  It doesn't have to be an official "Spring" poem, but perhaps one that reminds you of the season.  If you have one, please leave a comment with the poem attached!  Poetry...always good to share.

Comments

[steven good]

Don't know if it's my favorite, but it's the first one that came to mind - God's Grandeur by Hopkins:

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

[Rebecca]

Speaking of spring poetry, the PTS campus was quite poetic looking this morning!

Here's my favorite, by e e cummings.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of allnothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

[Josh]

Ooh. Steven and Rebecca, those are two of my favorite poems! Thanks for them!

Keep 'em coming, friends...

[kyledawn]

i always think of robert frost at the changing of the seasons. he seems to have poems for every one. it was hard to pick a favorite for spring but this is a good one:

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.

Robert Frost

others worth looking at are: 'to the thawing wind', 'spring pools', 'putting in the seed' and 'the pasture'

[Tiffany Chapman]

I've always liked the song by Nickel Creek "Flow Gently Sweet Afton" and when I was in a British Lit class in college I was supposed to read this poem as part of my homework, and while reading I realized this was the long I liked!! Kind of a cool discovery! It made me happy. It makes me think of spring time.

SWEET AFTON
by Robert Burns
Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. -

Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair. -

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. -

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow;
There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. -

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave. -

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays!
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

[Josh]

More good stuff! Thanks, Tiff and Kyle! Sweet Afton is a beaaaautiful song. I've never thought about reading it as poetry.