When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, read more

When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up,
Opened in airs of June her multiple
OF golden chalices to humming birds
And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.

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.

Make me over, Mother April,
When the sap begins to stir!
When thy flowery hand delivers
read more

Make me over, Mother April,
When the sap begins to stir!
When thy flowery hand delivers
All the mountain-prisoned rivers,
And thy great heart beats and quivers,
To revive the days that were.

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.

Every tear is answered by a blossom,
Every sigh with songs and laughter blent,
April-blooms upon the read more

Every tear is answered by a blossom,
Every sigh with songs and laughter blent,
April-blooms upon the breezes toss them.
April knows her own, and is content.

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.

The lyric sound of laughter
Fills all the April hills
The joy-song of the crocus,
read more

The lyric sound of laughter
Fills all the April hills
The joy-song of the crocus,
The mirth of daffodils.

Sweet April-time--O cruel April-time!
Year after year returning, with a brow
Of promise, and red lips with read more

Sweet April-time--O cruel April-time!
Year after year returning, with a brow
Of promise, and red lips with longing paled,
And backward-hidden hands that clutch the joys
Of vanished springs, like flowers.

She who from April dates her years,
Diamonds should wear, lest bitter tears
For vain repentance flow; read more

She who from April dates her years,
Diamonds should wear, lest bitter tears
For vain repentance flow; this stone,
Emblem of innocence is known.