If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace, As I have seen in one autumnal face.

The year's at the spring And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hillside's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snails on the thorn: God's in his heaven-All's right with the world!

Spring never is Spring unless it comes too soon.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie.

In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Spring, the cruelest and fairest of the seasons, will come again. And the strange and buried men will come again, in flower and leaf the strange and buried men will come again, and death and the dust will never come again, for death and the dust will die.

Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.