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 Spring Is Here
Spring is here, In the air, You can smell it coming, On the trees, Leaves are green, Caterpillars sunning. Birds are back, Grass is out, Busy bees are humming, On the trees, Leaves are green, Caterpillars sunning. by Author Unknown
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 At the Beach
Summer brings us nice warm sun For swimming, fishing, and lots of fun; For finding seashells in the sand; For sunbathing to get a tan; To do all these things and more At the beach and seashore. by Author Unknown  Spring Rain
The storm came up so very quick It couldn’t have been quicker. I should have brought my hat along; I should have brought my slicker. My hair is wet, my feet are wet, I couldn’t be much wetter. I fell into a river once But this is even better. by Marchette Chute Marchette Gaylord Chute was born on 16 August 1909 in Wayzata, Minnesota, United States of America. She became a biographer, a fiction writer, and a poet. Marchette Gaylord Chute passed on at 84 years of age on 6 May 1994 in Montclair, New Jersey, United States of America.  An Autumn Greeting
“Come,” said the Wind to the Leaves one day. “Come over the meadow and we will play. Put on your dresses of red and gold. For summer is gone and the days grow cold.” by Author Unknown  Winter
Cold and raw the north wind doth blow, Bleak in the morning early; All the hills are covered with snow, And winter’s now come fairly. When the Snow is on the Ground The little robin grieves When the snow is on the ground, For the trees have no leaves, And no berries can be found. The air is cold, the worms are hid; For robin here what can be done? Let’s strow around some crumbs of bread, And then he’ll live till snow is gone. by Author Unknown * strow: an old form of the word ‘strew,’ which means ‘to scatter, or throw about in a disorderly manner.’  The Wind and the Leaves
“Come, little leaves,” said the wind one day. “Come o’er the meadows with me, and play Put on your dress of red and gold, - Summer is gone, and the days grow cold.” Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call, Down they came fluttering, one and all; Over the brown fields they danced and flew, Singing the soft little songs they knew. “Cricket, good-by, we’ve been friends so long; Little brook, sing us your farewell song, - Say you are sorry to see us go; Ah! you will miss us, right well we know.” “Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold, Mother will keep you from harm and cold; Fondly we’ve watched you in vale and glade; Say, will you dream of our loving shade?” Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went; Winter had called them, and they were content. Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds, The snow laid a coverlet over their heads. by George Cooper Which of the seasons is this poem about?  The Miracle
I had waited all the winter for a sign Something wondrous, a miracle divine; Today it came, a very lovely thing, A crocus in the close a-blossoming. Blue wings a-gleam, a song bird’s sweetest strain, In gladness for spring’s miracle again. by Annie Stone  A Winter Surprise
Last night while I was sleeping The snow came softly down And slipped on all the shrubbery A shining snowflake gown. I guess that every little bush Felt startled with surprise To find itself a cotton plant On opening up its eyes. by Solveig Paulson Russell Solveig Paulson Russell was born on 28 March 1904 in Salt Lake City, Utah, United States of America. She was a schoolteacher, a writer of children’s books, and a poet. She wrote 45 books and more than 3,400 items for periodicals. Among her books are, “Twist and Twine: The Story of Cordage” (1969) and “Peanuts, Popcorn, Ice Cream, Candy, and Soda Pop, and How They Began” (1970).  Springtime
A small green frog On a big brown log; A black and yellow bee In a little green tree; A red and yellow snake By a blue-green lake, All sat and listened To a red bird sing, “Wake up, everybody, It’s spring! It’s spring!” by Author Unknown  We See Leaves
We see orange, We see brown, We see leaves, On the ground. We see yellow, We see red, We see leaves, Above our head. by Author Unknown Which one of the four seasons of the year does this poem describe?  The First Robin
Through the chill of an early April rain I hear the note of a sweet refrain - Has the robin come so soon? Heavy and dull are the skies without, And my heart is filled with a dreary doubt, But the song is a song of June. Robin, robin, you shame my faith, Your cheery song to my spirit saith: Believe, and away with fear: I am not afraid, though the cold winds blow, I am come at the call of God, and know That spring is surely here. “So I seek my mate, and I build my nest, And I sing my song with a keener zest, For the joy that is yet to be; Already the fullness of joy I share, When my nest shall swing in the summer air On the bough of the maple-tree.” Sing on, brave robin, your song shall be An inspiration of faith to me, I, too, will begin to sing. Though my heart is chilled, and my pulse is low, And my hopes lie buried under the snow, I am sure of a coming spring. by Maria Upham Drake Maria Upham Drake was born on 2 October 1847 in Baptist, Oklahoma, United States of America. She was a poet and a lecturer. Maria Upham Drake passed on at 72 years of age on 16 September 1920 in Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America. |
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