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Poems in Honor of Spring
For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered is grief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins. —Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)
Summer Poetry
Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun. —William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
Fall Poetry The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. —Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) Winter Verse
In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago. —Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
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