A Sensitive Plant

A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,

And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light.
And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.

And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;

 And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley, from "The Sensitive Plant"

 

It's spring fever.  That is what the name of it is.  And when you've got it, you

want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly

makes your heart ache, you want it so!  ~Mark Twain

 

Little by little spring is on its way.