April Fool Wishes and Status Messages - Page 4

Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true,
Primrose, first born child of Ver,
Merry Spring-times harbinger.

The promise of these fragrant flowers,
The fruit that neath these blossoms lies
Once hung, they say, in Edens bowers,
And tempted Eve in Paradise.
O fairest daughter of Eves blood,
Lest her misprision thine should be,
Ive nipped temptation in the bud
And send this snowy spray to thee.

Science has never drummed up quite as effective a tranquilizing agent as a sunny spring day.

April is no month for burials.

Sakura, Sakura.
Noyamamo satomo
Miwatasu kagiri.
Kasumi-ka kumo-ka.... asahi-ni niou
Sakura, Sakura,
Hanazakari.

Dirty days hath September
April June and November
From January up to May
The rain it raineth every day
All the rest have thirty-one
Without a blessed gleam of sun
And if any of them had two-and-thirty
Theyd be just as wet and twice as dirty.

One swallow does not make a spring,
nor does one fine day.

That age is best which is the first
When youth and blood are warmer.

Winters done, and Aprils in the skies,
Earth, look up with laughter in your eyes!

In April, we cannot see sunflowers in France, so we might say the sunflowers do not exist. But the local farmers have already planted thousands of seeds, and when they look at the bare hills, they may be able to see the sunflowers already. The sunflowers are there. They lack only the conditions of sun, heat, rain and July. Just because we cannot see them does not mean that they do not exist.

When April scatters charms of primrose gold
Among the copper leaves in thickets old,
And singing skylarks from the meadows rise,
To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;
When I can hear the small woodpecker ring
Time on a tree for all the birds that sing;
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long --
The simple bird that thinks two notes a song.

Late April and you are three; today
We dug your garden in the yard.
To curb the damage of your play,
Strange dogs at night and the moles tunneling,
Four slender sticks of lath stand guard
Uplifting their thin string.
So you were the first to tramp it down.
And after the earth was sifted close
You brought your watering can to drown
All earth and us. But these mixed seeds are pressed
With light loam in their steadfast rows.
Child, weve done our best.

Spring has again returned.
The Earth is like a child that knows many poems.
Many, O so many. For the hardship
of such long learning she receives the prize.
Strict was her teacher.
The white in the old mans beard pleases us.
Now, what to call green, to call blue,
we dare to ask: She knows, She knows!

Dropped off
body and mind -
weeding new cuttings.

Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found.
And theres the windflower chilly
With all the winds at play,
And theres the Lenten lily
That has not long to stay
And dies on Easter day.

The years at spring
And days at the morn;
Mornings at seven;
The hill sidess dew-pearled;
The larks on the wing;
The snails on the thorn;
Gods in his heaven -
Alls right with the world!

Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon only when it is cloudless? To long for the moon while looking on the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of the spring - these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with flowers are worthier of our admiration.

Break open
A cherry tree
And there are no flowers;
But the spring breeze
Brings forth myriad blossoms.

Spring, the sweet Spring, is the years 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!
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay--
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet--
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring, the sweet Spring!

My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp
air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler
breathings of April; the nights and mornings no longer by their
Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we
could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden.

Meadowlarks
give lusty cheers
when spring appears
when spring appears.
Buds and seeds
prick up their ears
and blades of grass
show eager spears.
And only icicles
weep tears
when spring appears
when spring appears.

How many million Aprils came
before I ever knew
how white a cherry bough could be,
a bed of squills, how blue
And many a dancing April
when life is done with me,
will lift the blue flame of the flower
and the white flame of the tree
Oh burn me with your beauty then,
oh hurt me tree and flower,
lest in the end death try to take
even this glistening hour...

For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
the flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

You can always tell its April
By the sound of falling rain
That mystic, mournful music
As it trickles down the drain.
Were told we should be thankful
For the kiss of April showers
As it washes all the grass clean
And prepares the soil for flowers.
Theres another side to April
Which doesnt bode us good,
When that mini, manic maelstrom
Turns the lawn to liquid mud.

Narcotic greens
narcotic greens
like reeling firmaments disclose
in their appearing randomness
the sweetest means that you or she
or any wandering Thales might
choose to be
wonder-struck with
at the moment
when we die

No Winter lasts forever, no Spring skips its turn.
April is a promise that May is bound to keep, and we know it.

All the wild sweetness of the flower
Tangled against the wall.
It was that magic, silent hour....
The branches grew so tall
They twined themselves into a bower.
The sun shown ... and the fall
Of yellow blossom on the grass!
You feel that golden rain?
Both of you could not hold, alas,
(both of you tried, in vain)
A memory, stranger. So I pass....
It will not come again.

Cherry Blossoms, cherry blossoms.
On mountains, in villages.
As far as you can see.
They look like fog or clouds. They are fragrant in the morning sun.
Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms.
In full bloom.

Tis the noon of the spring-time,
Yet never a bird In the wind-shaked elm or the maple is heard;
For green meadow-grasses wide levels of snow,
And blowing of drifts where the crocus should blow;
Where wind-flower and violet, amber and white;
The frosty flake eddies, the ice crystal shoots;
And, longing for light, under wind-driven heaps,
Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers,
With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!

In my old home
which I forsook, the cherries
are in bloom.