A Quote by William Wordsworth

Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest look of spring; That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfaded, yet prepared to fade, A timely carolling.
The flowers of Spring may wither, the hope of Summer fade, The Autumn droop in Winter, the birds forsake the shade; The winds be lull'd—the Sun and Moon forget their old decree, But we in Nature's latest hour, O Lord! will cling to Thee.
Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.
Blessed the man that hath visited `Akká, and blessed he that hath visited the visitor of `Akká. Blessed the one that hath drunk from the Spring of the Cow and washed in its waters, for the black-eyed damsels quaff the camphor in Paradise, which hath come from the Spring of the Cow, and from the Spring of Salvan (Siloam), and the Well of Zamzam. Well is it with him that hath drunk from these springs, and washed in their waters, for God hath forbidden the fire of hell to touch him and his body on the Day of Resurrection.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
Let us look upon a crucified Christ, the remedy of all our miseries. His cross hath procured a crown, his passion hath expiated our transgression. His death hath disarmed the law, his blood hath washed a believer's soul. This death is the destruction of our enemies, the spring of our happiness, and the eternal testimony of divine love.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.
T'was Spring, t'was Summer, all was gay Now Autumn bears a cloud brow The flowers of Spring are swept way And Summer fruits desert the bough
And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away Over the snowy peaks!
- Growth has its season. There are spring and summer, but there are also fall and winter. And then spring and summer again. As long as the roots are not severed, all is well and all be well.
Autumn to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall,-- So rolls the changing year, and so we change; Motion so swift, we know not that we move.
Spent most of the summer looking for shade. Driving around. Shade. Please? Driving in malls. I'll park a mile away I don't care. I'm just looking for a tree branch, anything. Long weed. Big leaf, get the front corner panel under it. Oh precious shade, I have it - you don't!
Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing, Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love?
All human life has its seasons and cycles, and no one's personal chaos can be permanent. Winter, after all, gives way to spring and summer, though sometimes when branches stay dark and the earth cracks with ice, one thinks they will never come, that spring, and that summer, but they do, and always.
Spring has many American faces. There are cities where it will come and go in a day and counties where it hangs around and never quite gets there. Summer is drawn blinds in Louisiana, long winds in Wyoming, shade of elms and maples in New England.
There are varying degrees of shade. There is funny shade, warning shade, tea shade, and mean girl shade.
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