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The April winds are magical,
And thrill our tuneful frames;
The garden-walks are passional
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The April winds are magical,
And thrill our tuneful frames;
The garden-walks are passional
To bachelors and dames.
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.
Sweet April showers
Do bring May flowers.
Sweet April showers
Do bring May flowers.
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.
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.
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's tears,
Dead on the hem of May.
Sweet April's tears,
Dead on the hem of May.
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!