When the days start getting longer and the sun appears in more than fifteen-minute bursts, I start getting real Modernist fruity and pull out Ezra Pound's Cantos.

Most of you probably stopped reading after that sentence, but for those who soldered on, Pound's Cantos is an incomplete, book-length, sprawling poem: a scattered tribute to at least four different cultures, a musing on economic theory, rhetorical exercise, rhetorical excess. On the flip side, certain passages can also be easily repurposed as inspirational posters for people who spent too much time reading literary theory in college and now spend too much money on latte (OH HAI).

Whatever, if this passage from Canto LIII doesn't warm the cockles of your icy heart, you don't deserve spring.

Day by day make it new
Cut underbrush
Pile the logs
Keep it growing