Songs of Spring

Spring... thaws the frozen fears,

mends the wounded heart

that Winter has broken.

~Aarno Davidson

His own, the singer ay must sing;	He may not touch an alien string, Nor silent be, nor fail the key, Lest that aerial symphony,	Lest that aerial symphony, Which ever and forever weaves Its mystic numbers through the leaves, Should lack one deep or tender t	Links singer unto singer there, And pours one choral on the air.
Birdsong:  a branch of music. ~Terri Guillemets	My music breathes of art;	With long cascades of laughter, The mating birds dart and swoop to the turf: 'Mid their mad trillings Glints the gay sun behind	Birds are beautiful and amazing creatures,
You have outdistanced every voice and word, And given my spirit wings until it stirred Like you—a bird!	Welcome, welcome, little stranger, Fear no harm, and fear no danger; We are glad to see you here, For you sing	The forest has a thousand moods— For every mood an answering bird	The bird is but a living word To voice the spirit of the woods;
Absent themselves on buoyant wing!	Just then the branches lightly stirred… See, out o' the apple boughs a bird Bursts music-mad into the blue abyss... ~Edwin Markh	If anything can offset the seductions of the morning nap, it is surely the grand open-air concert with which "our sisters the bi	. But though you think yourself taking the day by the prime, it is already old to the birds.
Then all the wood began to sing Its morning anthem to the spring. ~A. A. Milne, "The Invaders," When We Were Very Young, 1924	"Our Fellow Citizens, the Sparrows,"	chickadee	House Finch
Some birds are poets and sing all summer. ~Henry David Thoreau, journal, 1852 July 5th	The birds that Winter drives away Will surely come again with Spring.	Not everything is black or white Some things are lonely grey Like windows looking out on rain at dusk Or the bitter pain in wint	Bursts music-mad into the blue abyss... ~Edwin Markham, "At Dawn"
The trills and trickles of song from the birds	Dawn-giddy birds chirp as if every morning is a special occasion. Wise, wise birds. ~Terri Guillemets	give them fruit for their songs. ~Joseph Addison, 1712	Birdsong: a branch of music. ~Terri Guillemets