Хоть бы скорей пришла весна И с нею щебет и цветенье, И жаркая голубизна!

Под дождем я промок, но сорвал цветущую ветку, памятуя о том, что весна окончится скоро, что цветенье недолговечно...

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Подснежник и фиалку под нежные звуки весенней капели — весна повенчала.