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Classic Spring Poems for Elementary School, Middle School,

and High School Students

 The Fastest, Most Effective Way to Teach Elementary School

Students How to Write Multi-Paragraph Essays and Reports!

 Transforms Struggling Middle School and High School

Writers into Accomplished Authors -- FAST!

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

THE BIRDS' BATH by Evaleen Stein MAY BASKETS by Evaleen Stein

In our garden we have made Let us take our baskets early

Such a pretty little pool, To the meadows green,
Lined with pebbles neatly laid, While the wild-flowers still are pearly
Filled with water clean and cool. With the dewdrops' sheen.

When the sun shines warm and high Fill them full of blossoms rosy,
Robins cluster round its brink, Violets and gay
Never one comes flying by Cowslips, every pretty posy
But will flutter down to drink. Welcoming the May.

Then they splash and splash and splash, Then our lovely loads we'll carry
Spattering little showers bright Down the village street,
All around, till off they flash On each door, with laughter merry,
Singing sweetly their delight. Hang a basket sweet.

Hey-a-day-day! It is spring now,

Lazy folks, awake!
See the pretty things we bring now
For the May-day's sake!

THE RED-BIRD by Evaleen Stein

Swept lightly by the south wind

The elm-leaves softly stirred,
And in their pale green clusters
There straightway bloomed a bird! THE ROBIN'S BATH by Evaleen Stein

His glossy feathers glistened A flash and flicker of dripping wings,

With dyes as richly red A wet red breast that glows
As any tulip flaming Bright as the newly opened bud
From out the garden bed. The first red poppy shows,
A sparkle of flying rainbow drops,
But ah, unlike the tulips, A glint of golden sun
In joyous strain, ere long, On ruffled feathers, a snatch of song,
This red-bird flower unfolded And the robin's bath is done.
A heart of golden song!

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SHOWERY TIME by Evaleen Stein

EASTER EGGS
The April rain-drops sprinkle by Evaleen Stein
In cuckoo-cups of gold,
And warm south winds unwrinkle Seven little nests of hay
The buds the peach-boughs hold. We have made, for Easter day
Is to-morrow, and you know
In countless fluted creases We must have them ready, so
The little elm-leaves show, When the Rabbit comes she'll see
While white as carded fleeces We expected her, that we
The dogwood blossoms blow. Children tried our very best
Each to make the nicest nest.
A rosy robe is wrapping
The early red-bud trees; One is in the lilac-bush,
But still the haws are napping, Near the ground--last year a thrush
Nor heed the honey-bees. Built a nest there--let me see,
Two are by the apple-tree,
And still in lazy sleeping In the clover--that makes three--
The apple-buds are bound, One beside the playhouse door,
But tulip-tips are peeping --Three plus one, that must be four--
From out the garden ground. Two are in the tulip-bed--
Was it seven that I said?
And yonder, gayly swinging Oh, yes! six I've counted, and
Upon the turning vane, One is in our pile of sand.
A robin redbreast singing
Makes merry at the rain! Come and see! Oh, hurry, hurry!
For the Rabbit, kind and furry,
Has been here again and laid
Eggs in every nest we made!
Purple, orange, red, and blue,
Pink and green and yellow, too,
Like a bunch of finest flowers
Ever seen, and all are ours!
And oh, _look!_ What _do_ you think!
Here our names are in white ink,
All spelled nicely so we know
Just where every egg should go!
Is it not surprising, quite,
How well Easter Rabbits write?

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

A SURE SIGN by Evaleen Stein

When you see upon the walk

Circles newly made of chalk,
And around them all the day
Little boys in eager play
Rolling marbles, agates fine,
Banded, polished, red as wine,
Marbles crystal as the dew,
Each with rainbows twisted through,
Marbles gay in painted clay,
Flashing, twinkling in your way,
UP, LITTLE ONES! by Evaleen Stein
When the walk has blossomed so,
Surely every one must know
A robin redbreast, fluting there
None need wonder who has heard
Upon the apple-bough,
Robin, wren, or Peter-bird;
Is telling all the world how fair
Sure the sign as song or wing,
Are apple-blossoms now;
It is spring!
The honey-dew its sweetness spills
From cuckoo-cups, and all
The crocuses and daffodils
ANOTHER SURE SIGN by Evaleen Stein
Are drest for festival!
When pink-cheeked on every hand
Such pretty things are to be seen,
Little girls are seen to stand
Such pleasant things to do,
Turning skipping ropes,-- swish-swash!
The April earth it is so green,
While their laughing playmates run
The April sky so blue,
Jumping over, oh, what fun!
The path from dawn to even-song
Swish-swash! Swish-swash!
So joyous is to-day,
Two and two now, see them dash!
Up, little ones! and dance along
One, two, one, two,
The lilac-scented way!
Round they scamper, safely through,
Swish-swash! such merry skipping,
THE DAISIES by Bliss Carman
One, two,--some one is tripping!
Ah, she's out now and must pay
Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune
Turning rope while others play!
I saw the white daisies go down to the sea,
See the bobbing golden curls,
A host in the sunshine, an army in June,
Little skirts in rhythmic swirls
The people God sends us to set our hearts free.
Rising, falling, to the beat
Of the little skipping feet!
The bobolinks rallied them up from the dell,
When these pretty sights appear,
The orioles whistled them out of the wood;
It is surely very clear
And all of their saying was, "Earth, it is well!"
April's here!
And all of their dancing was, "Life, thou art good!"

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SPRING by Eliza Lee Follen

Hark! the little birds are singing,--

Winter's gone and summer's near;
See, the tender grass is springing,
And the flowers will soon be here.

GUESS WHAT I HAVE HEARD by Eliza Lee Follen Who made the winter and the spring?
Who painted all the flowers?
Dear mother, guess what I have heard! Who taught the little birds to sing,
O, it will soon be spring! And made these hearts of ours?
I'm sure it was a little bird,--
Mother, I heard him sing. O, 'tis God! how good he is!
He does every blessing give;
Look at this little piece of green All this happy world is his,--
That peeps out from the snow, Let us love him while we live.
As if it wanted to be seen,--
'Twill soon be spring, I know.

And O, come here, come here and look!

How fast it runs along!--
Here is a cunning little brook;
O, hear its pretty song!

I know 'tis glad the winter's gone

That kept it all so still,
For now it merrily runs on,
And goes just where it will.

I feel just like the brook, I know; LITTLE MARY by Eliza Lee Follen
It says, it seems to me,--
"Good by, cold weather, ice, and snow; Little Mary was good;
Now girls and brooks are free." The weather was fair;
She went with her mother
I love to think of what you said, To taste the fresh air.
Mother, to me last night,
Of this great world that God has made, The birds they were singing;
So beautiful and bright. Mary chatted away;
And she was as happy
And now it is the happy spring And merry as they.
No naughty thing I'll do;
I would not be the only thing
That is not happy, too.

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

TO SPRING by Eliza Lee Follen

Hail! reviving, joyous Spring,

Smiling through thy veil of showers;
Birds and brooks thy welcome sing,--
Haste, and waken all thy flowers.

Hark! a sweet pervading sound!

From the breathing, moving earth
Life is starting all around,
Sending joy and fragrance forth.
WAITING TO GROW by Frank French
O'er the oak's gigantic form
Blossoms hang their drapery; Little white snowdrop just waking up,
Branches that defied the storm Violet, daisy, and sweet buttercup,
Now are full of melody. Think of the flowers that are under the snow,
Waiting to grow!
There is not a silent thing
In this joyous company; And think what a number of queer little seeds,
Woods, and hills, and valleys ring Of flowers and mosses, of ferns and of weeds,
With a shout of jubilee. Are under the leaves and under the snow,
Waiting to grow!
Wake, my spirit! art thou still?
Senseless things have found a voice; Think of the roots getting ready to sprout,
Shall this throbbing heart be still, Reaching their slender brown fingers about,
When all nature cries, "Rejoice"? Under the ice and the leaves and the snow,
Waiting to grow!
Wake, come forth, my bounding soul!
Join the universal glee, No seed is so small, or hidden so well,
Yield to nature's kind control, That God cannot find it; and soon he will tell
Catch her heavenly harmony. His sun where to shine, and His rain where to go,
Making it grow!
Join the grateful, happy throng,
Cast each selfish care away;
Birds and brooks shall tune your song;
This is nature's holiday.

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com
DANDELION CURLS by Evaleen Stein

Ah, ha, ha, now! who comes here

Wreathed in flowers of gold and queer
Tiny tangled curls of green
Gayly bobbing in between?

Pretty token of the spring!

Hark! we hear the bluebirds sing
When we thus see little girls
Decked in dandelion curls.

THE DANDELIONS by Helen Gray Cone

Upon a showery night and still,

THE BLUEBIRD by Emily Huntington Miller Without a sound of warning,
A trooper band surprised the hill,
I know the song that the bluebird is singing, And held it in the morning.
Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging:
Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary: We were not waked by bugle notes
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery. No cheer our dreams invaded,
And yet, at dawn, their yellow coats
Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat-- On the green slopes paraded.
Hark! was there ever so merry a note?
Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying, We careless folk the deed forgot;
Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying. Till one day, idly walking,
We marked upon the self-same spot
"Dear little blossoms, down under the snow, A crowd of veterans, talking.
You must be weary of winter, I know; They shook their trembling heads and gray,
Hark while I sing you a message of cheer-- With pride and noiseless laughter,
Summer is coming! and spring-time is here! When, well-a-day! they blew away,
And ne'er were heard of after.
"Little white snowdrop! I pray you, arise;
Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes; SONG FROM "PIPPA PASSES."
Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, by Robert Browning
Put on your mantles of purple and gold:
Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?-- The year's at the spring,
Summer is coming! and spring-time is here!" And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn:
God's in his heaven--
All's right with the world.

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

AN APRIL DAY by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When the warm sun, that brings

Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs A BUSY DAY by Anonymous
The first flower of the plain.
The bluff March wind set out from home
I love the season well, Before the peep of day,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, But nobody seemed to be glad he had come,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell And nobody asked him to stay.
The coming-on of storms.
Yet he dried up the snow-banks far and near,
From the earth's loosened mould And made the snow-clouds roll,
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; Huddled up in a heap, like driven sheep,
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, Way off to the cold North Pole.
The drooping tree revives.
He broke the ice on the river's back
The softly-warbled song And floated it down the tide,
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings And the wild ducks came with a loud "Quack,
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along quack,"
The forest openings. To play in the waters wide.

When the bright sunset fills He snatched the hat off Johnny's head
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws And rolled it on and on,
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills, And oh, what a merry chase it led
And wide the upland glows. Little laughing and scampering John!

And when the eve is born, He swung the tree where the squirrel lay
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far, Too late in its winter bed,
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn, And he seemed to say in his jolly way,
And twinkles many a star. "Wake up, little sleepy head!"

Inverted in the tide, He dried the yard so that Rob and Ted
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw, Could play at marbles there,
And the fair trees look over, side by side, And he painted their cheeks a carmine red
And see themselves below. With the greatest skill and care.

Sweet April!--many a thought He shook all the clothes-lines, one by one,

Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; What a busy time he had!
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, But nobody thanked him for all he had done;
Life's golden fruit is shed. Now wasn't that just too bad?

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com
THE FLOWERS by Robert Louis Stevenson

All the names I know from nurse:

Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
And the Lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things,

Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames-- THE WIND by Robert Louis Stevenson
These must all be fairy names!
I saw you toss the kites on high
Tiny woods below whose boughs And blow the birds about the sky;
Shady fairies weave a house; And all around I heard you pass,
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
Where the braver fairies climb! O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
Fair are grown-up people's trees,
But the fairest woods are these; I saw the different things you did,
Where, if I were not so tall, But always you yourself you hid.
I should live for good and all. I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all--
THE FOUR WINDS by Frank Dempster Sherman O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
In winter, when the wind I hear,
I know the clouds will disappear; O you that are so strong and cold,
For 'tis the wind who sweeps the sky O blower, are you young or old?
And piles the snow in ridges high. Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
In spring, when stirs the wind, I know O wind, a-blowing all day long,
That soon the crocus buds will show; O wind, that sings so loud a song!
For 'tis the wind who bids them wake
And into pretty blossoms break.

In summer, when it softly blows,

Soon red I know will be the rose;
For 'tis the wind to her who speaks,
And brings the blushes to her cheeks.

In autumn, when the wind is up,

I know the acorn's out its cup;
For 'tis the wind who takes it out,
And plants an oak somewhere about.

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WISHING by William Allingham

Ring ting! I wish I were a Primrose,

A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the spring!
The stooping bough above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
THE VOICE OF SPRING by Mary Howitt And the Elm-tree for our king!

I am coming, I am coming! Nay,--stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,

Hark! the little bee is humming; A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!
See, the lark is soaring high The winds would set them dancing,
In the blue and sunny sky; The sun and moonshine glance in,
And the gnats are on the wing, And birds would house among the boughs,
Wheeling round in airy ring. And sweetly sing.

See, the yellow catkins cover Oh--no! I wish I were a Robin,--

All the slender willows over! A Robin, or a little Wren, everywhere to go,
And on the banks of mossy green Through forest, field, or garden,
Starlike primroses are seen; And ask no leave or pardon,
And, their clustering leaves below, Till winter comes with icy thumbs
White and purple violets blow. To ruffle up our wing!

Hark! the new-born lambs are bleating, Well,--tell! where should I fly to,
And the cawing rooks are meeting Where go sleep in the dark wood or dell?
In the elms,--a noisy crowd; Before the day was over,
All the birds are singing loud; Home must come the rover,
And the first white butterfly For mother's kiss,--sweeter this
In the sunshine dances by. Than any other thing.

Look around thee, look around!

Flowers in all the fields abound;
Every running stream is bright;
All the orchard trees are white;
And each small and waving shoot
Promises sweet flowers and fruit.

Turn thine eyes to earth and heaven:

God for thee the spring has given,
Taught the birds their melodies,
Clothed the earth, and cleared the skies,
For thy pleasure or thy food:
Pour thy soul in gratitude.

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

THE SPRING WALK by Thomas Miller

We had a pleasant walk to-day continued

Over the meadows and far away,
Across the bridge by the water-mill, We heard the speckle-breasted lark
By the woodside and up the hill; As it sang somewhere out of sight,
And if you listen to what I say, And tried to find it, but the sky
I'll tell you what we saw to-day. Was filled with clouds of dazzling light.

Amid a hedge, where the first leaves We saw young rabbits near the woods
Were peeping from their sheathes so sly, And heard the pheasant's wings go "whir";
We saw four eggs within a nest, And then we saw a squirrel leap
And they were blue as a summer sky. From an old oak tree to a fir.

An elder branch dipped in the brook; We came back by the village fields,
We wondered why it moved, and found A pleasant walk it was across 'em,
A silken-haired smooth water-rat For all behind the houses lay
Nibbling, and swimming round and round. The orchards red and white with blossom.

Where daisies open'd to the sun, Were I to tell you all we saw,
In a broad meadow, green and white, I'm sure that it would take me hours;
The lambs were racing eagerly-- For the whole landscape was alive
We never saw a prettier sight. With bees, and birds, and buds, and flowers.

We saw upon the shady banks

Long rows of golden flowers shine,
And first mistook for buttercups
The star-shaped yellow celandine.

Anemones and primroses,

And the blue violets of spring,
We found, while listening by a hedge
To hear a merry plowman sing.

And from the earth the plow turned up

There came a sweet, refreshing smell,
Such as the lily of the vale
Sends forth from many a woodland dell.

And leaning from the old stone bridge,

Below, we saw our shadows lie;
And through the gloomy arches watched
The swift and fearless swallows fly.

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com
THE BABY'S RIDE by Evaleen Stein
continued
Chee! Chee! Chickadee!
Sing-time and sun! Robin on the peach-bough,
Aye, aye, baby-bye, Swinging overhead,
Springtime has begun! Sing a little song and say
Why is your breast so red?
In the little willow cart,
On a downy bed, Why is your voice so sweet, and
Pretty parasol of silk Your song so merry, say?
Swinging overhead, And wherefore do you spread your wings
And quickly fly away?
Let us go along the lane
Where a baby sees Ho, ho! see the queer little prints there
Mighty tufts of grass, and weeds That cover the road, baby, look!
Tall as forest trees! At the web-footed tangle that hints where
The ducks have gone down to the brook!
Bluebird on the apple-bough,
Sing and sing and sing! The Muscovy mammas that waddled
Sing your very sweetest now Zigzag, you can trace in their tracks,
For babyhood and spring! And the dear little ducklings that toddled
And tumbled sometimes on their backs!
"Bah! Bah!" from the pasture,
And "Caw! Caw!" from the crow, Buttercup, buttercup, buttercup gold,
And bleating from the little calf O give us a handful of riches to hold!
That has not learned to low.
Ho, ho! laughs the baby, and grasps in his glee
Apple-buds, apple-buds breaking apart, His wealth, but soon shows what a spend-thrift is he!
The baby looks upward with love-laden gaze; Nay, nay, he is king, though he never was crowned,
Oh, shower some petals down here in his cart, And royally scatters his gold on the ground!
One honey-sweet cluster of pretty pink sprays!
Bough of the willow-tree
Apple-buds, apple-buds, scornful and too Over the brook,
Vain of your loveliness, stay where you are! Down darts a kingfisher,
The cheeks of the baby are pinker than you, Look, baby, look!
And finer and softer and sweeter by far!
Back on the willow-bough,
See the pretty little lambs, Fishing is done;
How they frisk and play! Happy and nappy now
See their silky fleeces shine There in the sun.
White as buds in May!
Happy and nappy the baby is, too,
White as are the fleecy clouds Softly his eyelids droop over the blue,
Softly blowing by-- Golden his curls on the white pillow lie,
What if they were little lambs Sleep, baby, sleep, baby, hush-a-by-bye.
Playing in the sky?

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

NEST EGGS by Robert Louis Stevenson TIME TO RISE by Robert Louis Stevenson

Birds all the sunny day A birdie with a yellow bill

Flutter and quarrel, Hopped upon the window sill,
Here in the arbour-like Cocked his shining eye and said:
Tent of the laurel. "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?"

Here in the fork

The brown nest is seated;
Four little blue eggs
The mother keeps heated.

While we stand watching her,

Staring like gabies,
Safe in each egg are the A Child of Spring by Ellen Robena Field
Bird's little babies.
I know a little maiden,
Soon the frail eggs they shall She is very fair and sweet,
Chip, and upspringing As she trips among the grasses
Make all the April woods That kiss her dainty feet;
Merry with singing. Her arms are full of flowers,
The snow-drops, pure and white,
Younger than we are, Timid blue-eyed violets,
O children, and frailer, And daffodillies bright.
Soon in blue air they'll be,
Singer and sailor. She loves dear Mother Nature,
And wanders by her side;
We, so much older, She beckons to the birdlings
Taller and stronger, That flock from far and wide.
We shall look down on the She wakes the baby brooklets,
Birdies no longer. Soft breezes hear her call;
She tells the little children
They shall go flying The sweetest tales of all.
With musical speeches
High overhead in the Her brow is sometimes clouded,
Tops of the beeches. And she sighs with gentle grace,
Till the sunbeams, daring lovers,
In spite of our wisdom Kiss the teardrops from her face.
And sensible talking, Well we know this dainty maiden,
We on our feet must go For April is her name;
Plodding and walking. And we welcome her with gladness,
As the springtime comes again.

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

THE SWING by Robert Louis Stevenson

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Easter Carol by Ellen Robena Field Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
The world is filled with gladness; Up in the air I go flying again,
The bells of Easter ring; Up in the air and down!
Each pure white lily's waking,
To welcome infant spring.
THE BEAUTIFUL SPRING by George Cooper
Oh, dear little children, listen,
And hear what the glad bells say! "I was here first," said the snowdrop: "look!"
The sweetest chime they ever rang-- "Not before me!" sang the silver brook.
"Our Lord is risen to-day!" "Why," cried the grass, "I've been here a week!"
"So have I, dear," sighed a violet meek.
Birds are flying across the sky;
Their songs ring through the air; "Well," piped a bluebird, "don't leave me out!
They carol of the Father's love I saw the snow that lay round about."
He shows us everywhere. "Yes," chirped a snowbird, "that may be true;
But I've seen it all the bleak winter through."
Oh, dear little children, listen,
And hear what the birdlings say! "I came betimes," sang the southwind, "I!"
The sweetest song they ever sang-- "After me, love!" spake the deep blue sky.
"Our Lord is risen to-day!" "Who is it cares?" chimed the crickets gay:
"Now you are here, let us hope you'll stay."

Whispered the sun, "Lo! the winter's past:

What does it matter who's first or last?
Sky, brooks, and flowers, and birdies that sing,
All help to make up the beautiful spring."

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

DAISY NURSES by Anonymous

The daisies white are nursery maids with frills upon their caps;
And daisy buds are little babes they tend upon their laps.
Sing "Heigh-ho!" while the winds sweep low,
Both nurses and babies are nodding JUST SO.

The daisy babies never cry, the nurses never scold;

They never crush the dainty frills about their cheeks of gold;
But pure and white, in gay sunlight
They're nid-nodding--pretty sight.
Spring by Celia Thaxter
The daisies love the golden sun, upon the clear blue sky,
He gazes kindly down on them and winks his jolly eye; The alder by the river
While soft and low, all in a row, Shakes out her powdery curls;
Both nurses and babies are nodding JUST SO. The willow buds in silver
For little boys and girls.

The little birds fly over

And oh, how sweet they sing!
To tell the happy children
That once again 'tis spring.

The gay green grass comes creeping

So soft beneath their feet;
The frogs begin to ripple
A music clear and sweet.

And buttercups are coming,

And scarlet columbine,
And in the sunny meadows
The dandelions shine.

DANDELIONS by Anonymous And just as many daisies

As their soft hands can hold
There surely is a gold mine somewhere underneath the grass, The little ones may gather,
For dandelions are popping out in every place you pass. All fair in white and gold.
But if you want to gather some you'd better not delay,
For the gold will turn to silver soon and all will blow away. Here blows the warm red clover,
There peeps the violet blue;
O happy little children!
God made them all for you.

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Pattern Based Writing: Quick & Easy Essay www.PatternBasedWriting.com

AN APRIL DAY by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When the warm sun, that brings DANDELIONS by Frances E. W. Harper

Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs Welcome children of the Spring,
The first flower of the plain. In your garbs of green and gold,
Lifting up your sun-crowned heads
I love the season well, On the verdant plain and wold.
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell As a bright and joyous troop
The coming-on of storms. From the breast of earth ye came
Fair and lovely are your cheeks,
From the earth's loosened mould With sun-kisses all aflame.
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, In the dusty streets and lanes,
The drooping tree revives. Where the lowly children play,
There as gentle friends ye smile,
The softly-warbled song Making brighter life's highway
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along Dewdrops and the morning sun,
The forest openings. Weave your garments fair and bright,
And we welcome you to-day
When the bright sunset fills As the children of the light.
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills, Children of the earth and sun.
And wide the upland glows. We are slow to understand
All the richness of the gifts
And when the eve is born, Flowing from our Father's hand.
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.

Inverted in the tide,

Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.

Sweet April!--many a thought

Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.

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continued

The woods with living airs

How softly fann'd,
Light airs from where the deep,
All down the sand,
Is breathing in his sleep,
Heard by the land.

O follow, leaping blood,

The season's lure!
O heart, look down and up
Serene, secure.
Warm as the crocus cup,
Like snowdrops, pure!

Past, Future, glimpse and fade

EARLY SPRING by Alfred Tennyson
Thro' some slight spell,
A gleam from yonder vale,
Once more the Heavenly Power
Some far blue fell,
Makes all things new,
And sympathies, how frail,
And domes the red-plow'd hills
In sound and smell.
With loving blue;
The blackbirds have their wills,
Till at thy chuckled note,
The throstles too.
Thou twinkling bird,
The fairy fancies range,
Opens a door in Heaven;
And, lightly stirr'd,
From skies of glass
Ring little bells of change
A Jacob's ladder falls
From word to word.
On greening grass,
And o'er the mountain-walls
For now the Heavenly Power
Young angels pass.
Makes all things new,
And thaws the cold, and fills
Before them fleets the shower,
The flower with dew;
And bursts the buds,
The blackbirds have their wills,
And shine the level lands,
The poets too.
And flash the floods;
The stars are from their hands
Flung thro' the woods.

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