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Kite Days

by Mark Sawyer

A kite, a sky, and a good


firm breeze,
And acres of ground away
from trees,
And one hundred yards of
clean, strong string -O boy, O boy! I call that
Spring!
Spring, Almost
The sunshine gleams so bright and warm,
The sky is blue and clear.
I run outdoors without a coat,
And spring is almost here.
Then before I know it,
Small clouds have blown together,
Till the sun just can't get through them,
And again, it's mitten weather.

Spring Rain
by Marchette Chute

The storm came up so very


quick
It couldn't have been
quicker.
I should have brought my
hat along,
I should have brought my
slicker.
My hair is wet, my feet are
wet,
I couldn't be much wetter.
I fell into a river once
But this is even better.
March
March is an in between month,
When wintry winds are high.
But milder days remind us all,
Spring's coming by and by.

Little Seeds
by Else Holmelund Minarik

Little seeds we sow in spring


growing while the robins sing,
give us carrots, peas and beans,
tomatoes, pumpkins, squash and
greens.
March Wind
And we pick them,
one and all,
through the summer,
March wind is a jolly fellow;
through the fall,
He likes to joke and play.
Winter comes, then spring, and then He turns umbrellas inside out
little seeds we sow again.
And blows men's hats away.
He calls the pussy willows
And whispers in each ear,
"Wake up you lazy little
seeds,
Don't you know that spring is
here.

Trees
Trees are the kindest things I know,
They do no harm, they simply grow
And spread a shade for sleepy cows,
And gather birds among their bows.
They give us fruit in leaves above,
And wood to make our houses of,
And leaves to burn on Halloween
And in the Spring new buds of
green.
They are first when day's begun
To tough the beams of morning sun,
They are the last to hold the light
When evening changes into night.
And when a moon floats on the sky
They hum a drowsy lullaby
Of sleepy children long ago...
Trees are the kindest things I know.
by Harry Behn

The Beech Tree


I'd like to have a garden
With a beech tree on the
lawn;
The little birds that lived
there
Would wake me up at
dawn.
And in the summer
weather
When all the leaves were
green,
I'd sit beneath the beach
boughs
And see the sky between.
by Rose Fyleman

Surprise
Close your eyes
And do not peek
And I'll rub "spring"
Across your cheek.
Soft as velevet
Smooth and sleek
Close your eyes
And do not peek.

"The Itsy Bitsy Spider"

The itsy, bitsy spider,


climbed up the water
spout.
Down came the rain and
washed the spider out.
Out came the sun and
dried up all the rain,
So the itsy, bitsy spider
went up the spout again.

Spring
I love the spring.
For every day
There's something new
That's come to stay.
Another bud
Another bird
Another blade
The sun has stirred.

My Spring Garden
Here is my little garden,
Some seeds I'm
Going to sow.
Here is my rake
To rake the ground,
Here is my handy hoe.
Here is the big
Round yellow sun,
The sun warms everything.
Here are the rain clouds
In the sky,
The birds will start to sing.
Little plants will
Wake up soon,
And lift their sleepy heads.
Little plants will
Grow and grow
From their warm earth beds.

down
That fenced the haystack, and the
remnant shines
Like some old antique fragment
weathered brown.
And where suns peep, in every
sheltered place,
The little early buttercups unfold
A glittering star or two - till many
trace
The edges of the blackthorn clumps
in gold.
And then a little lamb bolts up
behind
The hill, and wags his tail to meet
the yoe;
And then another, sheltered from the
wind,
Lies all his length as dead - and lets

Who has seen the wind?


Neither I nor you;
But when the leaves hang
trembling
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I;
But when the trees bow down their
heads
The wind is passing by.
March
Never mind March, we
Christina G. Rossetti
know
You're not really mad
Or angry or bad.
You're only blowing the
winter away
To get the world ready

The roofs are shining from the


rain,
The sparrows twitter as they
fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the backyards are bare
and brown
With only one unchanging
tree-April
I could not
be so sure of
April isSpring
a rainbow
Save that
it sings in me.
month,
by Sare Teasdale

Of sudden springtime
showers.
Bright with golden
daffodils
and lots of pretty