Seasons

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory out of desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in a forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers. – TS (Thomas Stearns) Eliot

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. – TS (Thomas Stearns) Eliot

My sorrow, when shes here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane. – Robert Frost

Often in winter the end of the day is like the final metaphor in a poem celebrating death: there is no way out. – Agustin Gomez-Arcos

In the marvellous month of May
when all the buds were bursting,
then in my heart did
love arise.

In the marvellous month of May
when all the birds were singing,
then did I reveal to her
my yearning and longing. – Heinrich Heine

O suns and skies and clouds of June, and flowers of June together. Ye cannot rival for one hour Octobers bright blue weather. – Helen Hunt Jackson