Simple Poems About Spring

Poems about spring celebrate the wonders of nature during spring, highlighting the beauty of flowers and the singing of birds.

Spring brings warmer temperatures after the cold winter. As the weather warms up, grass and plants turn lush green, transforming the landscape.

Days become longer in spring, which is associated with a sense of optimism and new beginnings.

Poems about spring describe the scent of flowers, the feel of a gentle breeze, and the sound of rain. They convey themes of rebirth, growth, and the promise of a fresh start.

Poets use colorful language to paint pictures of blooming flowers and blossoming trees. Poetry is a beautiful way to celebrate this time of renewal and growth around the world.

Let’s take a look at poems about spring that feel like a breath of fresh air and enjoy them.

Spring

By Barbara R Johnson

Wondrously February withdraws to
warm March with a golden glow
from Spring’s shining sun sent
down to lead the way
for April’s soothing showers
soon to bring fragrant flowers
and dance on May’s blossoming bounty.

 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

Spring, spring is coming soon,
Grass is green, and flowers bloom,
Birds returning from the south,
Bees are buzzing all about,
Leaves are budding everywhere,
Spring, spring is finally here!

March Wind

The wind is pushing
Against the trees,
He’ll take off your hat
Without asking you “please,”
He rattles the windows
And puffs at a cloud,
Then scoots down the chimney
And laughs aloud.

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
In their little warm earth beds.

To The First Robin

By Louisa May Alcott

Welcome, welcome, little stranger,
Fear no harm, and fear no danger;
We are glad to see you here,
For you sing, “Sweet Spring is near.”

Now the white snow melts away;
Now the flowers blossom gay:
Come, dear bird, and build your nest,
For we love our robin best.

Spring is Here

Spring is here.
Spring is here.

Hear the birds.
Hear the birds.

They are busy finding.
They are busy finding.

Big fat worms.
Big fat worms.

Daffodowndilly

By A.A Milne

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
“Winter is dead.”

 Good-Bye, Winter!

Good-bye, Winter!
Spring is in the air.
Flowers are in the bloom.
You see colors everywhere.

Birds build their nest.
In branches way up high.
But out my window, that loud bird.
Woke me up again … sigh!

Spring Thunder

Listen, The wind is still,
And far away in the night —
See! The uplands fill
With a running light.

Open the doors. It is warm;
And where the sky was clear–
Look! The head of a storm
That marches here!

Come under the trembling hedge–
Fast, although you fumble…
There! Did you hear the edge
of winter crumble
Mark Van Doren

BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES

BY MARY HOWITT

Buttercups and daisies-
Oh the pretty flowers,
Coming ere the springtime
To tell of sunny hours.
While the trees are leafless,
While the fields are bare,
Buttercups and daisies
Spring up here and there.

Ere the snowdrop peepeth,
Ere the croscus bold,
Ere the early primrose
Opes its paly gold,
Somewhere on a sunny bank
Buttercups are bright;
Somewhere ‘mong the frozen grass
Peeps the daisy white.

Little hardy flowers
Like to children poor,
Playing in their sturdy health
By their mother’s door:
Purple with the north wind,
Yet alert and bold;
Fearing not and caring not,
Though they be a-cold.

What to them is weather!
What are stormy showers!
Buttercups and daisies
Are these human flowers!
He who gave them hardship
And a life of care,
Gave them likewise hardy strength,
And patient hearts, to bear.

Welcome yellow buttercups,
Welcome daisies white,
Ye are in my spirit
Visioned, a delight!
Coming ere the springtime
Of sunny hours to tell-
Speaking to our hearts of Him
Who doeth all things well.

It Must Be Spring

By May Fenn

Hush, can you hear it?
The rustling in the grass,
Bringing you the welcome news that
Winter’s day is past.
Soft, can you feel it?
The warm caressing breeze,
Telling you the sticky buds
Are bursting on the trees.
Look, can you see them?
The primrose in the lane.
Now you must believe it –
Spring is here again

And Now It’s Spring

By Lhtheaker

The grass is green across the hill,
But yellow blooms the daffodil.
It’s sunshine on a little stalk,
A friendly flower, I bet they talk…

Of little kids, too long inside
They burst outdoors to play and hide.
Tracking mud and bringing bugs.
Look, there’s footprints on the rug!

Tiny whirlwinds, these little tykes,
They skin their knees while riding bikes.
They rip and roar, they’re running wild!
What fun it is to be a child.

It grows warmer every day.
Shoo the children out to play!
Pick the flowers, play in mud.
Too much rain, here comes a flood!

My snowy, winter days are gone.
I mourn them, but I hear a song
Of birds in trees; wind chimes ring.
I guess it might as well be spring!

Nature’s Way

By Heidi Campbell

Upon a nice mid-spring day,
Let’s take a look at Nature’s way.
Breathe the scent of nice fresh air,
Feel the breeze within your hair.

The grass will poke between your toes,
Smell the flowers with your nose.
Clouds form shapes within the skies,
And light will glisten from your eyes.

Hear the buzzing of the bees,
Climb the tallest willow trees.
Look across the meadow way,
And you shall see a young deer play.

Pick the daisies as they grow,
Watch a gentle cold stream flow.
Know the sounds of water splash,
Catch its glimmer in a flash.

When altogether all seems sound,
Lay yourself upon the ground.
Take a moment to inhale,
And listen to Nature tell her tale…

Loveliest Of Trees

A. E. Housman, 

Loveliests of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

I Watched A Blackbird

By Thomas Hardy

I watched a blackbird on a budding sycamore
One Easter Day, when sap was stirring twigs to the core;
I saw his tongue, and crocus-coloured bill
Parting and closing as he turned his trill;
Then he flew down, seized on a stem of hay,
And upped to where his building scheme was under way,
As if so sure a nest was never shaped on spray.

The Enkindled Spring

D. H. Lawrence,

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.

Spring, the sweet spring

BY THOMAS NASHE

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!

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!
Spring, the sweet spring!

To Daffodils

BY ROBERT HERRICK

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain’d his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray’d together, we
Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or anything.
We die
As your hours do, and dry
Away,
Like to the summer’s rain;
Or as the pearls of morning’s dew,
Ne’er to be found again.

This is all about spring poems.

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