Transcript Document
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. And we pick them, one and all, through the summer, through the fall, Winter comes, then spring, and then little seeds we sow again. March Wind March wind is a jolly fellow; He likes to joke and play. He turns umbrellas inside out 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. Young Lambs The spring is coming by a many signs; The trays are up, the hedges broken 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 me go Close by, and never stirs, but basking lies, With legs stretched out as though he could not rise. John Clare Who Has Seen the Wind? March Never mind March, we know You're not really mad Or angry or bad. You're only blowing the winter away To get the world ready For April and May. 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. Christina G. Rossetti April 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-I could not be so sure of Spring Save that it sings in me. by Sare Teasdale April April is a rainbow month, Of sudden springtime showers. Bright with golden daffodils and lots of pretty flowers.