Spring Poems

Spring Spring Spring is almost here

Spring Spring Spring is the time to Cheer

But when the rain comes everyone won't be glum

Spring Spring Spring is almost here

Spring Spring Spring the sky will be so clear

by Taylor Hurttgam

 Oh, to be in England
Once the spring has come;
Oh, to be in Yorkshire
When all the Dales bloom.

Oh, to be in Earby,
When fledglings leave the nest,
and watch the new-born lambs that skip   
and never seem to rest!

Oh, to be on Marlfields Farm
When everything is green,
When grass and leaves and tiny buds   
Can everywhere be seen.

Over here in Canada
some crocuses wear fur -
Little coats to keep them warm -

So they don’t bloom crying, “Brrr!”

Over there in England
where now the snow is thick,
You, at least, snow drops
We only have dry sticks.

Oh, yes, to be in England

To see earth new again,

And know the feel of sunlight

And watch a gentle rain.

We envy you, you English

And wish we could be there

With lambs and trees and flowers,

And birdsong everywhere.

A word of explanation - the prairie crocus breaks through the hard soil covered in thick fuzz - its "winter coat"  - and gradually this falls off as the petals of the bloom are revealed. 

This is nature's little touch of humour on the frozen plains!

The  trouble with the Muse from Guelph is that, once you get her wound up, she doesn't know enough to stop.

I wandered, lonely, cold and tired,

And thought of better days – like spring –

And wished for snow to disappear,

For warmer days and blooming things

Wordsworth had his daffodils

But I have what?  An icy way,

And slippery paths and nasty winds,

And creeping, sliding cars each day.

I wish that it would vanish, now,

This strange occurrence in our land,

This aberration known as snow -

This menace white - we need more sand!

Who ever thought, as earth grows warm,

That we’d be cursed with frozen stuff?

We wish we lived in older times,

When ladies carried warm fur muffs.

Whether to put socks in or out,

On top of boots or next to skin,

How many layers will we need

To keep our bodies warm within?

How soon will all this go away,

And let us have our normal damp -

Our grey, our English rain -

Some decent weather for a tramp.

It’s all too much!  It’s time for spring!

Enough of snowmen, snowball fights

Let Wordsworth’s daffodils appear;

Then we will know it’s all come right.

Can anyone help me out with this poem... I remember it from elementry school,  but do not remember the author !  I have searched the enter-net , but cannot even find the poem... It is called  The Frost

                                                              The frost crept up the window- pane, against the suns advance,

                                                              In line and pattern weaving there,  rich scenes of old romance.

                                                              Armies on the Russian snows; Cockade,  sword and lance

                                                              It spun a web more magical, each moment creeping higher

                                                              For marbel cities crowned the hills with turret, fane and spire,

                                                              Till when it struck the flaming sash, The Kremlin was on fire.

                                         Hopefully someone knows who wrote it, and put me out of my misery.  Thanks !  Karen

Ok....The Author of the poem happens to be E.J.Pratt...a Canadian poet from Newfoundland..and the poem is called just

"Frost " Cindy suggested I "phone a friend" ..brillant idea, so I did...A school chum , who is now a school teacher in rural Cape Breton...she found it quickly,in the school archives..(old books) as I was able  to remember the names of the two possiable readers it was in...Thank you all for racking your brains for me...                Karen

So glad you found out the name of the author Karen and credit to Cindy for suggesting that you 'phone a friend' and to your friend who found out the information for you.