A Quote by Edmund Spenser
Fresh spring the herald of love's mighty king.
Related Quotes
I am the herald of the Great King.
The spring is fresh and fearless
And every leaf is new,
The world is brimmed with moonlight,
The lilac brimmed with dew.
Here in the moving shadows
I catch my breath and sing -
My heart is fresh and fearless
And over-brimmed with spring.
In snowbound, voiceless, mountain depths, to herald spring, pine trees sound in tune.
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain.
Talent is a spring from which fresh water always flows.- But this spring is worthless if no good use is made of it.
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
I love the music from Nat King Cole, BB King, Albert King... When I think of it, I wouldn't mind being renamed Angus King.
And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth in the bright air.
All the spring may be hidden in the single bud, and the low ground nest of the lark may hold the joy that is to herald the feet of many rose-red dawns.
The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh.
One cannot walk into an April day in a negative way. With spring, each man's plans and hopes result in new efforts, fresh actions. All of which has a mighty important bearing on the economy. There are those of us who think that the psychology of man, each and together, has more impact on markets, business, services and building and all the fabric of an economy than all the more measurable statistical indices.
Every fresh act of benevolence is the herald of deeper satisfaction; every charitable act a stepping-stone towards heaven.
Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,
But Lust's effect is tempest after sun;
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,
Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done;
Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies;
Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
There is love like a small lamp, which goes out when the oil is consumed; or like a stream which dries up when it doesn't rain. But there is a love that is like a mighty spring gushing up out of the earth; it keeps flowing forever, and is inexhaustible.
The herald, earth-accredited, of heaven,--which when men hear, they think upon heaven's king, and run the items over of the account to which he is sure to call them.
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing.
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
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