Spring Song by Robert Louis Stevenson.

THE air was full of sun and birds,
The fresh air sparkled clearly.
Remembrance wakened in my heart
And I knew I loved her dearly.

The fallows and the leafless trees
And all my spirit tingled.
My earliest thought of love, and Spring's
First puff of perfume mingled.

In my still heart the thoughts awoke,
Came lone by lone together -
Say, birds and Sun and Spring, is Love
A mere affair of weather.

Original Post
I have a Bird in spring by Emily Dickinson.

I have a Bird in spring
Which for myself doth sing --
The spring decoys.
And as the summer nears --
And as the Rose appears,
Robin is gone.

Yet do I not repine
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown --
Learneth beyond the sea
Melody new for me
And will return.

Fast is a safer hand
Held in a truer Land
Are mine --
And though they now depart,
Tell I my doubting heart
They're thine.

In a serener Bright,
In a more golden light
I see
Each little doubt and fear,
Each little discord here
Removed.

Then will I not repine,
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown
Shall in a distant tree
Bright melody for me
Return.

A Light exists in Spring by Emily Dickinson.

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period --
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay --

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

Thank you Vicky.
We did not have a topic about classic spring poetry, so this is very appropriate, since spring is trily here.


Spring comes on the World -- by Emily Dickinson


Spring comes on the World --
I sight the Aprils --
Hueless to me until thou come
As, till the Bee
Blossoms stand negative,
Touched to Conditions
By a Hum.

Lines Written In Early Spring.
by William Wordsworth.

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

Thank you girls.
I used to write and study classic poetry, and I remember this little poem by Emily Dickinson,

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown --
Who ponders this tremendous scene --
This whole Experiment of Green --
As if it were his own!
In our gathering one candle lights hundreds,
we will light your path and give you courage
so you will open like a flower
and join in our joyous laughter.
Plant the seed of truth and watch it grow
when it spreads its branches
come with us and sit under the blossoms.
Your eyes will open to the secret of Truth.

Rumi
************

Let us fall in love again
and scatter gold dust all over the world.
Let us become a new spring
and feel the breeze drift in the heavens' scent.
Let us dress the earth in green,
and like the sap of a young tree.
Let the grace from within sustain us.
Let us carve gems out of our stony hearts
and let them light our path to Love.
The glance of Love is crystal clear
and we are blessed by its light.

~Rumi
******

In the scenery of spring,
nothing is better, nothing worse;
The flowering branches are
of themselves, some short, some long.
- Zen anon.





The weather at last is turning mild
Swinging my staff
I set off for a spring outing
Streams burble in the valleys and gorges
Mountains and forests ring
with the trilling of birds
I may go walking with a monk
Stop at a friend's and rest a while
There's nothing like this life of mine
A boat that's slipped its moorings
bobbing on the waves.
- Ryokan
Thank you yoko for all your input.
You have been busy.

Spring Poem ~ Rumi

The Music We Are



Did you hear that winter’s over? The basil
and the carnations cannot control their

laughter. The nightingale, back from his
wandering, has been made singing master

over the birds. The trees reach out their
congratulations. The soul goes dancing

through the king’s doorway. Anemones blush
because they have seen the rose naked.

Spring, the only fair judge, walks in the
courtroom, and several December thieves steal

away, Last year’s miracles will soon be
forgotten. New creatures whirl in from non-

existence, galaxies scattered around their
feet. Have you met them? Do you hear the

bud of Jesus crooning in the cradle? A single
narcissus flower has been appointed Inspector

of Kingdoms. A feast is set. Listen: the
wind is pouring wine! Love used to hide

inside images: no more! The orchard hangs
out its lanterns. The dead come stumbling by

in shrouds. Nothing can stay bound or be
imprisoned. You say, “End this poem here,

and wait for what’s next.” I will. Poems
are rough notations for the music we are.


One Day In Spring....

One day in spring, a woman came
In my lonely woods,
In the lovely form of the Beloved.
Came, to give to my songs, melodies,
To give to my dreams, sweetness.
Suddenly a wild wave
Broke over my heart's shores
And drowned all language.
To my lips no name came,
She stood beneath the tree, turned,
Glanced at my face, made sad with pain,
And with quick steps, came and sat by me.
Taking my hands in hers, she said:
'You do not know me, nor I you—
I wonder how this could be?'
I said:
'We two shall build, a bridge for ever
Between two beings, each to the other unknown,
This eager wonder is at the heart of things.'

The cry that is in my heart is also the cry of her heart;
The thread with which she binds me binds her too.
Her have I sought everywhere,
Her have I worshipped within me,
Hidden in that worship she has sought me too.
Crossing the wide oceans, she came to steal my heart.
She forgot to return, having lost her own.
Her own charms play traitor to her,
She spreads her net, knowing not
Whether she will catch or be caught.

Rabindranath Tagore
***********************

Spring Blossom


Kabir




Spring blossoms — the cherry blossom, plum blossom, peach blossom — suddenly appear on seemingly dead branches, heralds of the coming spring. They represent the gentle, almost unnoticed flowering of enlightenment, the surprisingly quiet recognition of the Buddha-mind. These spring blossoms appear only after the hard, lonely winter of meditation and spiritual practice, yet when they peek forth, their appearance is natural, effortless. Spring blossoms are the new life that emerges from the dead branches of the little self, they simply emerge when the limited ego has passed through its seasons and withered away.

Alternately, spring blossoms can represent the fleeting nature of life. They appear brightly, seemingly out of nothing from bare branches, but all too briefly... then they are gone. They can represent the Buddhist insight that all things are fleeting and change, that everything like the seasons themselves keep changing, where the only thing of value is the cultivation of awareness in order to appreciate this very moment.

Sometimes the sheer beauty of color and perfume Spring flowers express transports us to an awareness of the sacred.

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