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1

Spring flies, and with it all the train it leads:

And flowers, in fading, leave us but their seeds. SCHILLER-Farewell to the Reader.

2

I sing the first green leaf upon the bough, The tiny kindling flame of emerald fire, The stir amid the roots of reeds, and how The sap will flush the briar.

CLINTON SCOLLARD-Song in March.

3

For, lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.

The Song of Solomon. II. 11, 12.

4

So forth issew'd the Seasons of the yeare:

First, lusty Spring, all dight in leaves of flowres That freshly budded and new bloomes did beare, In which a thousand birds had built their bowres

That sweetly sung to call forth paramours; And in his hand a javelin he did beare,

And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures) A guilt, engraven morion he did weare: That, as some did him love, so others did him feare.

SPENSER Faerie Queene. Bk. VII. Canto VII. Legend of Constancie. St. 28.

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10

Dip down upon the northern shore,
O sweet new year, delaying long;
Thou doest expectant nature wrong,
Delaying long; delay no more.
TENNYSON-In Memoriam, 82.

11

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove;

In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

TENNYSON-Locksley Hall. St. 9.

12

The boyhood of the year.

TENNYSON-Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere. St. 3.

13

Come, gentle Spring; ethereal Mildness, come! THOMSON-Seasons. Spring. L. 1.

14

The Clouds consign their treasures to the fields,
And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool,
Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow
In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world.
THOMSON-Seasons. Spring. L. 173.

15

Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace: Throws out the snowdrop and the crocus first. THOMSON-Seasons. Spring. L. 527.

16

'Tis spring-time on the eastern hills!
Like torrents gush the summer rills;
Through winter's moss and dry dead leaves
The bladed grass revives and lives,
Pushes the mouldering waste away,
And glimpses to the April day.

WHITTIER-Mogg Megone. Pt. III.

17

And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of spring,

And the rosebud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,

And the crocus bed is a quivering moon of fire Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring. OSCAR WILDE-Magdalen Walks.

18

The Spring is here-the delicate footed May, With its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers, And with it comes a thirst to be away,

In lovelier scenes to pass these sweeter hours. N. P. WILLIS Spring.

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The spacious firmament on high,

With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,

Their great Original proclaim.

Forever singing, as they shine,

The hand that made us is divine.

ADDISON-Ode. The Spacious Firmament on High.

20

Surely the stars are images of love.

BAILEY-Festus. Sc. Garden and Bower by the Sea.

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