Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

Der heilige Spring (Kämpchen) [15] Der heilige Spring *).[1] In den Bergen von Balkhausen, Dort... Poet: Heinrich Kämpchen	Tears in Spring The swallow is flying over, But he will not come to me; He flits, my daring rover, From land to land, from sea to sea; Where hot Bermuda’s reef Its barrier lifts to fortify the shore, Above the surf’s wild roar He darts as swiftly o’er,—... Poet: William Ellery Channing	In Earliest Spring Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, Lion-like, March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath, Through all the moaning chimneys, and thwart all the hollows and angles Round the shuddering house, threating of winter and death. But in my... Poet: William Dean Howells	It Is in Winter That We Dream of Spring It is in Winter that we dream of Spring; For all the barren bleakness and the cold, The longing fancy sees the frozen mould Decked with sweet blossoming. Though all the birds be silent,—though The fettered stream’s soft voice be still, And... Poet: Robert Burns Wilson
The Spring Beauties The puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church; A Thrush, white-breasted, o’er them sat singing on his perch. “Happy be! for fair are ye!” the gentle singer told them, But presently a buff-coat Bee came booming up to scold them. “Vanity, oh, vanity... Poet: Helen Gray Cone	Was There Another Spring Was there another Spring than this? I half remember, through the haze Of glimmering nights and golden days, A broken-pinioned birdling’s note, An angry sky, a sea-wrecked boat, A wandering through rain-beaten ways! Lean closer, love—I... Poet: Helen Hay	Spring Song Make me over, mother April, When the sap begins to stir! When thy flowery hand delivers All the mountain-prisoned rivers, And thy great heart beats and quivers To revive the days that were, Make me over, mother April, When the sap begins to... Poet: Bliss Carman	Spring From the Greek by Andrew Lang NOW the bright crocus flames, and now The slim narcissus takes the rain, And, straying o’er the mountain’s brow, The daffodillies bud again. The thousand blossoms wax and wane On wold, and heath, and... Poet: Meleager of Gadara
“When the hounds of spring” When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; And the brown bright nightingale amorous Is half assuaged for Itylus, For the... Poet: Algernon Charles Swinburne	“Spring, the sweet spring” Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country-houses gay, Lambs frisk and... Poet: Thomas Nashe