| Amount of texts to »spring« | 50, and there are 48 texts (96.00%) with a rating above the adjusted level (-3) |
| Average lenght of texts | 130 Characters |
| Average Rating | 2.100 points, 17 Not rated texts |
| First text | on Mar 28th 2000, 15:49:09 wrote Tanna about spring |
| Latest text | on Jun 5th 2006, 02:46:07 wrote kim kandravy about spring |
| Some texts that have not been rated at all
(overall: 17) |
on Apr 19th 2002, 23:38:10 wrote
on Apr 12th 2000, 20:26:22 wrote
on Aug 3rd 2000, 12:19:07 wrote |
the sweetness of the fields unspeakable, and we of the railroad rush over its wooded dry indian draws where one morning all dew pink just outside Chittendon I saw a bird sitting stanchion straight in the wild tangle, and it was the bird of Chittendon and the meaning of morning
LOVELIEST 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.
A.E.Housman
Spring – it is, indeed! Flowers everywhere! The sun is shining, the air is light! We all are happy. But what about daylights-saving-time? Nobody likes that. Why do politicians do things like that.
One time I was sitting with my girlfriend on a couch in her house. We were doing something innocent, watching TV or something like that. At some point I leaned over to kiss her, or she did this to me. At exactly this moment, her mother walked into the room. With a small amount of embarassment, she declared »Well. Must be Spring.«
Wile E. Coyote from the Roadrunner cartoons sometimes ties springs to his feet so he can jump higher.
Spring is a state of renewed biological activity bought on by a return to milder temperatures.
»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«
Queen Margaret:
Now ‘tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
Suffer them now, and they’ll outgrow the garden,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«
- William Shakespeare (1564–1616) – Henry VI, Part 2, act 3, sc. 1, l. 31-3
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