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Various Artists - Click Or Tap On Arrow To Play Or Replay Music Or Audio Or Refresh This Page - Seasons To Celebrate
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Four Seasons
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
These are the seasons, four in all.
Weather alternates, sun and rain and snow,
Leaves fall down or flowers upward grow.
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
These are the seasons, four in all.
Look outside anytime and you will see
Just what season it is supposed to be!
By Author Unknown
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
These are the seasons, four in all.
Weather alternates, sun and rain and snow,
Leaves fall down or flowers upward grow.
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
These are the seasons, four in all.
Look outside anytime and you will see
Just what season it is supposed to be!
By Author Unknown
- Published on
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?
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?
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Enchantment
This is the way white
enchantment is made:
Snowflake on snowflake,
fluttering, laid.
Bushes and tree branches
sparkling with white -
Stars from the skies, -
scintillant, light.
This is the place where
enchantment is made
Close by a stream,
where birches wove shade.
All through the summer,
for violets, sweet
As a soft kiss; now
snow-kissed, their feet.
This is the song white
enchantment is singing
With sleigh bells and snowflakes,
rhythmically ringing.
By Grace Sayre
This is the way white
enchantment is made:
Snowflake on snowflake,
fluttering, laid.
Bushes and tree branches
sparkling with white -
Stars from the skies, -
scintillant, light.
This is the place where
enchantment is made
Close by a stream,
where birches wove shade.
All through the summer,
for violets, sweet
As a soft kiss; now
snow-kissed, their feet.
This is the song white
enchantment is singing
With sleigh bells and snowflakes,
rhythmically ringing.
By Grace Sayre
- Published on
Autumn Leaves
Autumn leaves are lovely,
They rustle when I run,
Sometimes I make a heap,
And jump in them for fun!
Autumn leaves float quietly down,
And form a carpet on the ground,
But when those leaves are stepped upon,
Listen for the crackling sound!
When you see crisp Autumn leaves,
Gold and glowing in the sun,
It’s time to say goodbye to Summer,
And hello to Autumn fun!
By Author Unknown
Autumn leaves are lovely,
They rustle when I run,
Sometimes I make a heap,
And jump in them for fun!
Autumn leaves float quietly down,
And form a carpet on the ground,
But when those leaves are stepped upon,
Listen for the crackling sound!
When you see crisp Autumn leaves,
Gold and glowing in the sun,
It’s time to say goodbye to Summer,
And hello to Autumn fun!
By Author Unknown
- Published on
Jack Frost
Someone painted pictures on my
Windowpane last night -
Willow trees with trailing boughs
And flowers, frosty white,
And lovely crystal butterflies;
But when the morning sun
Touched them with its golden beams,
They vanished one by one.
By Helen Bayley Davis
Helen Bayley Davis lived in Baltimore, Maryland, United States of America. She was a poet and a lyricist. She was the author of at least eight collections of poetry, and is known for her poem, "Jack Frost." She was a member of the Baltimore Poetry Circle and the International Bookfellows.
Someone painted pictures on my
Windowpane last night -
Willow trees with trailing boughs
And flowers, frosty white,
And lovely crystal butterflies;
But when the morning sun
Touched them with its golden beams,
They vanished one by one.
By Helen Bayley Davis
Helen Bayley Davis lived in Baltimore, Maryland, United States of America. She was a poet and a lyricist. She was the author of at least eight collections of poetry, and is known for her poem, "Jack Frost." She was a member of the Baltimore Poetry Circle and the International Bookfellows.
- Published on
Leaves
In autumn when the trees are brown,
The little leaves come tumbling down,
They do not make the slightest sound,
But lie so quietly on the ground,
Until the wind comes puffing by,
And blows them off towards the sky.
By Author Unknown
In autumn when the trees are brown,
The little leaves come tumbling down,
They do not make the slightest sound,
But lie so quietly on the ground,
Until the wind comes puffing by,
And blows them off towards the sky.
By Author Unknown
- Published on
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.
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.
- Published on
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
“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
- Published on
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 became 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).
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 became 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).