Poems for Mary's Tea Room

I have seen trilliums and daffodils.

Enchantment of Spring
Bernice Roche Jacobs

The scarlet tulips bloom again
Beside the garden gate.
The gentle breezes stir the leaves;
A robin charms his mate.

The apple blossoms dance and wave
Against the sapphire sky.
The clover blossoms stretch their necks;
In grassy beds they lie.

The morning sun sets forth her rays
Above the verdant hills
To kiss the blue and brush the dew
From jaunty daffodils.

The pansy faces laugh and play
And cast a saucy look;
The royal violets nod and sway
Beside the friendly brook.

The graceful lilies burst in bloom;
The trilliums hint of pearl;
The chartreuse leaves of lady fern
On tender stems uncurl.

The daisies bow and bob and blink
Like puppets on a string;
And Mother Nature, once again,
Enchants the world with spring.

2 inches of snow on the ground this morning.
Still waiting for spring.

The Coming of Spring
Grace V. Watkins

After the weeks of winter chill,
The warm sweet gold of a daffodil.
After the silence, white and long,
A little brook's allegro song;
A bird cadenza spilling joy
Into the heart of a listening boy.
And shining grass on the wakened sod,
Like a lovely psalm of praise to God,
To God who has given you and me
The wonderful gift of eternity.

Daffodil Gold
Minnie Klemme

Count not the cost of loveliness--
God's daffodils burn gold again.
They come each spring as time before,
Spilling their gold beside our door.
They save enough to stay alive
Through winter's snow, and they survive.
The miner's hoard is theirs to spurn;
The daffodils have gold to burn.

Life's Awakening
Faye Adams

The soil lies dormant and still,
Catching snowflakes as they spill
On twigs and branches, piling deep,
Drinkin raindrops as they seep,
Anticipating heat from the sun
When winter's work is finally done.

All nature, asleep in winter freeze,
Awakens in the merry March breeze.
Like needles piercing burlap, plants
Toil, pushng upward through the soil,
Strain toward light, battling wind
With joy; let the new cycle begin.

The earth responds in utter delight;
Dull hues change to rainbow brights.
Hang out feeders; fill the birdbath;
Place pansies along the garden path;
Watch the swallows, robins, and jays
Building nests on bright new days.

Spring unlocks the flowers

to paint the laughing soul.

--Reginald Herber

Promises of Spring
Nora M. Bozeman

April promised lilacs
And tulip gifts of gold.
She promised gentle raindrops
And wildflowers colored bold.

April promised pathways
Strewn with emerald green.
She promised panoramic views
The likes I've never seen.

April promised rainbows
And blue skies overhead.
She promised perfumed breezes
And roses ruby red.

April promised springtime
In all her majesty;
And I wasn't disappointed,
for she gave these gifts to me.

April
Edgar A. Guest

April, and the showers are falling;
April, and the birds are calling
To their kin of song and feather,
Quite regardless of the weather.

From the ground the cold is going;
Now the violets are showing,
And the constant pitter-patter
Of the rain seems not to matter.

April, and the birds are humming
Everywhere that May is coming;
Plant and tree are not complaining
That this morning it is raining.

All around us there is beauty,
Smiling, faithful to its duty;
And the dandelion humble
Seems too big and brave to grumble.

When it's April in our dreaming
And the storms of care are teeming,
May we see beyond our sorrow
All the beauty of tomorrow.

April Rain
Mildred L. Evenson

We ran and splashed, my child and I,
In swirling puddles running by.
She laughed and wrinkled up her nose
At Mother squishing with her toes;
And all the earth was fresh and green,
And not a neighbor could be seen.
It was such fun that new spring day
When early April skies gave way,
And no one near or passing by--
Just April rain, my child, and I.

Inspiration
Beth LaPointe Heath

I hear you knocking, pretty rain,
Softly at my windowpane;
For spring has come this April noon,
Tossing sweet, melodious tunes.
Votive nature again shall rise
To echo songs in playful surprise,
While I in joy must lightly go
To plant tomatoes, row on row.

Song to an April Day
Eleanor Elkins

Where would I be on this April day?
High on a hill where the wind holds sway
Like a king. I'd view the river of glass
And emerald meadows where cattle pass.

Where would I rove this day of spring?
To the edge of the wood where robins sing.
To the dappled glade with its wall of trees
Where pine boughs stir in the slightest breeze.

Perhaps in a garden I'd spend my time.
A perfect spot when composing a rhyme.
The hum of bees gathering every sweet,
This is the way beautiful Spring I'd greet.

And another perfect place to be
Is up on a cliff o'er the surging sea,
Watching the ships as they glide away
Bound for the orient this fine day.

Then down to the piers that stretch like fingers
Into the ocean. The fresh air lingers
To fill the soul with a certain peace,
Where the boom of the surf will never cease.

Perhaps a mountain road lures me on
Through ferns dripping dew in the early dawn
Past age-old trees that upward fling
Great boughs. Oh, the joy of early spring.

April Music
Katherine Edelman

Under glow
Of April sun,
Earth and sky
And sea are one;
United in
One song of praise
For beauty spread
On woodland ways;
For fragile blossoms
Opening up;
For dewdrops held
In petaled cup.
The choir of songbirds
Joining too
The chorus for
A world made new.

Where April Blooms
Joy Belle Burgess

I'll find a great up-gathering
Of song along the way
Where young, green things are wakening
To meet their first spring day.
I'll find a hill resplendent
In the buttercups' fresh gold
And weave a million daydreams
For my happy heart to hold.
I'll find the deep tranquility
Of dogwoods in the sky,
A hillside framed in sunlight
With a soft wind passing by.
I'll find a sparrow singing
On his pussywillow throne,
And far across the hill
A meadowlark will lend its tones.
I'll find the hills are singing,
And all the earth's in tune.
My heart wil then rejoice
Along the way where April blooms.

Spring Song
Robert Louis Stevenson

The air was full of sun and birds;
The fresh air sparkled clearly.
Remembrance wakened in my heart,
And I knew I loved her dearly.

The fallows and the leafless trees
And all my spirit tingled.
My earliest thought of love, and spring's
First puff of perfume mingled.

In my still heart the thoughts awoke,
Came lone by lone together.
Say, birds and sun and spring, is love
A mere affair of weather?

Invitaation
Evalyn Torrant

Oh, come to my little green garden,
Where daisies bloom bright by the door,
Where pansies peek shyly from baskets,
And day lilies bloom by the score,

Where roses as fragrant as jasmine
Perfume both the day and the night,
Where goldfinches gather at feeders,
Then leave in a twittering flight.

In my garden your troubles, though many
And dark as the shadows at dawn,
Will vanish as quickly as dewdrops
Disperse in the light of the sun.

Memorial Day
Edgar A. Guest

These did not pass in selfishness; they died for all mankind;
They died to build a better world for all who stay behind;
And we who hold their memory dear, and bring them flowers today,
Should consecrate ourselves once more to live and die as they.

These were defenders of the faith and guardians of the truth;
That you and I might live and love, they gladly gave their youth;
And we who set this day apart to honor them who sleep
Should pledge ourselves to hold the faith they gave their lives to keep.

If tears are all we shed for them, then they have died in vain;
If flowers are all we bring them now, forgotten they remain;
If by their courage we ourselves to courage are not led,
Then needlessly these graves have closed above our heroes dead.

To symbolize our love with flowers is not enough to do;
We must be brave as they were brave, and true as they were true.
They died to build a better world, and we who mourn today
Should consecrate ourselves once more to live and die as they.

I remember DH's grandmother's kitchen rocking chair.

The Rocking Chair
Samuel L. Bontrager

Of the many treasures I hold dear,
None will ever compare
With those precious memories
Of Mother's rocking chair.
Standing by so faithfully,
Its duty was never shirked,
Providing comfort for Mother,
While on and on she worked.
When daytime work was done,
In her rocker she would sit,
Humming familiar tunes
While her hands would deftly knit.
Her chair creaked just slightly,
In harmony with the ticking clock.
Mother would slowly rock away
While darning another sock.
Although Mother is not here today
To render her love and care,
The love will always radiate
With thoughts of her rocking chair..

Good morning Deery, I had to come and read what latest poems you have posted. I love them all, the Rocking Chair makes me think of the times I have rocked my babes when they were young, now they are grown, such sweet memories in the rocking chair. Hugs, Connie