Spring Rhyme Poems | Examples
These Spring Rhyme poems are examples of Rhyme poems about Spring. These are the best examples of Rhyme Spring poems written by international poets.
Revel in Newness like Spring, warmth and light
Keeping God's portrait - beauty of flowers in sight.
Our Creator gives us an Eternal Life and Love;
A supernatural feeling just from Him Above.
Through tears we see the joy-smile of a Friend
Then realize it's the face of Jesus at the Valley's End.
As seasons come and seasons go,
the leaves will fall and skies will snow.
With gentle rains, leaves re-appear;
then summer sun…another year.
And as the seasons come and go,
the years march by, age starts to show.
And as we age, we seek the truth,
and in the Autumn, long for youth.
As seasons come and seasons go
we reassess the things we know,
and reminisce of moments past
and all our memories amassed.
And as the seasons turn once more
we find new paths, new dreams in store.
Though winter chills, the heart still sings
for every end foretells a spring.
And as each season blooms anew
we treasure moments we’ve accrued;
we hold our grandkids to our breast
and thank the Lord, for we’ve been blessed.
December 11, 2025
Spring comes as a butterfly,
soft wings in the air.
She drifts over the meadow
touching everything with care.
She lands beside the flowers
and whispers, “Time to grow.”
Then all the tiny sprouts
peek up to say hello.
She warms the grass with sunlight
as she flutters by.
She paints the world in colors
under a brighter sky.
Spring, the gentle butterfly,
flies from place to place.
Wherever she goes flying,
she leaves a smiling trace.
In the middle of the darkest night,
I make a surprisingly large sight.
In a boundless appearance in times.
Mercifully fleeting, swirling, and patterned climbs;
Swift, laborious, and icy blasts;
And horrible in some places that are forecasts.
I constantly change with the site,
Never the same but always a sight.
With moving wind and howling sound,
Bringing a low climate close to freezing ground,
Covering the land in a pristine blanket of glistening
Snow. Some snuggle indoors in comfort, not listening.
I am never alone. My frosty white mornings bring
Tranquil calmness to those and countless creatures to spring
As I embrace. Then silence is broken with the sound.
Of the crunching footsteps. On the frost-covered ground.
With the energy of nature and the activities of human fun,
I host a unique universe of life under the sun.
I am Winter, a magic in a world of great wonder.
Engaging and entertaining, ladening life snowed under.
The wind caresses my face
As if to wake me from my daze.
My eyes flutter to the garden maze.
I stay sat up to meet the sun's gaze,
Not of a beast to meet agaze
But of a butterfly yet to figure out its day.
The butterfly yet to amaze
On the flower meant to stay.
Wait a while, Wait.
The time to meet at the horizon's gate.
I never frolic through a land's plain.
Rather to brush up and race
Through my beloved's embrace.
Pitter patter, pitter patter, I race
Across to my best mate
I purr and my tail entangles a leg set in place,
An enchanting time of forever fate
To be etched in memory of a garden down a lane.
Not one but many memroies never to fade
Of a time in the year met in a cheerful place,
Always for a spring cat's playful daze.
I am Winter and almost here,
you must give me a huge cheer.
I will bring you a day that is clear,
but watch out for the ice my dear.
My white snow can be so much fun,
sometimes I can bring you a ton.
Now go out and run ~ run,
before I am melted by the big bright sun.
I can bring a real cold time,
making for an early bedtime.
My wind will make the bells chime,
giving off a pretty rhyme.
Before you know it Winter will be gone,
Spring will bring in a new dawn.
Next year I will bring back a pretty white lawn,
until then just carry on.
I was born into the pastel of Spring
But lived so long in Winter’s grey
That I forgot almost how to sing
Or how to dance the night away.
Our life it seems is into seasons divided
Not measured out like those of nature’s
Some are overburdened, rather lopsided
Others have short swiftly moving features
Years of Winter’s stormy chill
Gentle Spring blooming in an instant
Indolent Summer so tedious and still
And Fall a hurried picking – reminiscent
All in all it rounds out full
Although unbalanced be,
So when it’s time to say goodnight
It’s a fine furled farewell to thee.
I am the silence when the broadleaf sleeps,
The jagged fortress that the winter keeps.
They call me "Holly," but my roots run deep
In the hard promise that I swear to keep.
I do not soften when the daylight fails;
My leaves are leather, sharpened into scales.
I watched the maples blaze and spend their gold,
Then stand in silvered ruin, bare and cold.
I watched the frail rose wither on the vine,
But the red jewel in my crown is mine.
When all the forest yields its vital hue,
My green is staunch, my crimson is true.
The birds seek shelter in my thorny shade,
A small, dark refuge where no sound is made.
The hungry deer will pass my branches by,
Respecting armor raised up to the sky.
My strength is not in height, but in my spine,
A steady, ancient, militant design.
I am the token pulled in from the wood,
To mark the season that is understood.
I wait for spring, but never bow to fear,
The bright, bold heart of the turning year.
I bring the cold and skies of gray
You'll shiver at my icy glare
Snowstorms may soon come your way
and freezing temps with no warmth to spare
If you love skiing, I'll give you lots of snow
You can even build a snowman if you choose
With button eyes and a carrot nose
My freezing temps will give you the blues
Sometimes I overstay my time
and impose upon the long awaited spring
Instead of blooms, it'll be freezing climes
As upon the trees my icicles cling
Then I will leave as I must
But I'll return after autumn leaves take flight
Leaving you with one last frosty gust
and return when the time is right
The Ever-Changing Crown
A root that grips the turning world,
A silent anchor, tightly curled,
Supports a truth both somber and clear:
The life and death of every year.
A realm of silvered Winter,
Where boughs are stark, a frozen splinter,
The grey sky hangs, a promise kept,
That life beneath has merely slept.
Then, bursting forth, a blush of Spring,
The cherry bough begins to sing,
With clouds of petals, soft and pink,
A hopeful dream upon the brink.
Next, a heart of sun-drenched Summer,
A canopy of vivid comer.
The leaves are lush, a fortress green,
The shade a cool, majestic screen.
And where the vibrant curtain falls,
The bronze and scarlet Autumn calls,
With gold and russet, fire-kissed hues,
A final glory the tree renews.
Though separate seasons frame the sight,
One single spirit burns so bright.
It wears all gowns, from snow to flame,
And knows the seasons by their name.
A living clock, a steady sign,
Of passing time, and art divine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She moves with composure across the dry grass,
her exhalation forms a silver line in the cold air.
Her hands trace patterns of frost upon the window’s glass pane,
an artist absorbed in art created with harsh fanfare.
She softly hums, her voice echoing along the icy lane
singing a song filled with shivering notes, low and deep.
Her dress, crafted by the swirling snowstorm, her beauty attained
her crystal diamonds sewn where footsteps carefully creep.
She kisses the earth and sleeps with lullabies,
her voice a hush of wind through skeletal trees.
Her laughter? Just the howl that shakes the skies,
Her sorrow? Icicles that snap and freeze.
Earth’s vibrant hues remain hushed beneath her white,
awaiting renewal and the stirring of returning light.
She’ll leave when spring unthreads her pale disguise~
the sunshine and warmth bringing her much anticipated demise.
The Master Gardener makes no mistake
About His pruning, nor of what He must break,
It's because He's the Creator of it all
So He knows what must fall.
Trusting, let your Sap of Spring-Joy flow
Always and faithfully, even if you don't know
The ways or times of Harvest coming soon,
All the Excellence and Blessing in the time to prune.
Stay free Dezi..' Stay alert old son..If you ever vist England, drop in it'd be fun, bring
Some vegamite, a cherry-ripe, some four
Xxxx beers as well.' I'll take you to some old tyme pubs, I reckon you'll go down swell? We can talk at lenght of sanity, and
Gippsland in the spring, the mallee and its
Wheatfilds, the western districts potato
Kings.' We'll have a go on picking out a horse to win the cup.' And maybe we'll go
Back home Dez.? Once i've quenched my
Thirst eniugh..I'm not too sad, to hit the spot with
A rifle, in my arms..Some wallaby stew i reckon will do.' As the bush birds sing out
Their charms.' A line of rope twixt
ghost gums, a canvas sheet upon it, a river
down the way.' I can keep your side safe a good mile wide.
' Now Dez what do you say.?
I’ve heard the poet’s voice
Many years now
It speaks from distant lands
Beyond sun and cloud
It comes not by choice
But flows in through me
I am its voluntary vessel
In its overflowing sea
Sometimes it comes
As in a trance it seems
Other times I hear it
In my evening dreams
It fills my soul
With everlasting love
Embracing me
With strength from above
It has a visionary power in its throat
To speak of death decay or growth
Or enter into sorrow or into pain
Or sing with joy and cheer all the same
At times it sings with music divine
Of truthful worlds hidden and sublime
Its tone is clear
Emotions wise and dear
If ever you should hear it
Protect it from your doubt
And you will surely know
What the world is all about
Its power is everlasting
Like the world it’s speaking of
Nothing that it ever touches dies
It has the power to immortalize
Its source is truly a Holy Fount
A sacred spring indeed
A voice that may often save you
When your soul may be in need
Beloved
Most beloved
Dear beloved
Do not extend my worldly exile
What is the news from birds of your lands
There is a spring which rises even from graveyards
If there is lover, from love executioner what is the meaning
Beyond from absent and present there is an existing
It is not always my fault that burns me down there is a sight
Emulating that song there are verses which will be told
Never ever say destiny, over destiny there is a destiny of Lord
Whatever they do is in vain, there is a decree which comes from skies
If sun sets what happens, there is an architect who renovates nights
If i am burned, there is a stronghold which constructed from my ashes
There is a victory which is growing defeat by defeat
To reach the secret of secrets at you there is a key
At your chest there is vessel that calls back its exile
I don't give up hope from you, there is a plane named mercy at your heart
Beloved
Most beloved
Dear beloved
Do not extend my worldly exile
Written by Sezai Karakoç
Translation Onur Ünlü