To The Spring

"Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; 
    There are four seasons in the mind of man: 
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear 
    Takes in all beauty with an easy span: "


The Human Seasons by John Keats 1-4

Stormy weather's cast - but the showers lull

In defeat after they unlikely cease,

Allowing - from its nest - silent seagull

To spread its waiting wings, take to the breeze

Above the idylls of the sweet Spring time,

As fanciful flowers bloom once again

Beneath a willow trees bosom - benign -

That once again has leaves, blessed by the rain

That had fallen, leaving a mask of dew

To blanket the hearty heath of heather

That had stood stubborn all the Winter through;

Not surrendered as would the Finch's feather.

I see, within these scenes, tranquillities

Only in solitude enjoyed, the calm

Of the Spring; the season expectantly

Paving the pathway to a Summer psalm.

© Cecil Field

A Song of Springtime - John William Waterhouse