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April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
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April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
I love the season well
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded read more
I love the season well
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming of storms.
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, fetches, oats, and pease;
Thy turfy read more
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, fetches, oats, and pease;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep;
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
Being lasslorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard;
And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
Where thou thyself dost air--the queen o' th' sky,
Whose wat-ry arch and messenger am I,
Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain.
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
The children with the streamlets sing,
When April stops at last her weeping;
And every happy growing read more
The children with the streamlets sing,
When April stops at last her weeping;
And every happy growing thing
Laughs like a babe just roused from sleeping.
The lyric sound of laughter
Fills all the April hills
The joy-song of the crocus,
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The lyric sound of laughter
Fills all the April hills
The joy-song of the crocus,
The mirth of daffodils.
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparelled April on the heel
Of limping Winter read more
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparelled April on the heel
Of limping Winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh fennel buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house.
Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, read more
Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.
Again the blackbirds sings; the streams
Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
And tremble in the April read more
Again the blackbirds sings; the streams
Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
And tremble in the April showers
The tassels of the maple flowers.
Now the noisy winds are still;
April's coming up the hill!
All the spring is in her read more
Now the noisy winds are still;
April's coming up the hill!
All the spring is in her train,
Led by shining ranks of rain;
Pit, pat, patter, clatter,
Sudden sun and clatter patter!
. . . .
All things ready with a will,
April's coming up the hill!