The April winds are magical,
And thrill our tuneful frames;
The garden-walks are passional
read more

The April winds are magical,
And thrill our tuneful frames;
The garden-walks are passional
To bachelors and dames.

Oh, the lovely fickleness of an April day!

Oh, the lovely fickleness of an April day!

A gush of bird-song, a patter of dew,
A cloud, and a rainbow's warning,
Suddenly sunshine and read more

A gush of bird-song, a patter of dew,
A cloud, and a rainbow's warning,
Suddenly sunshine and perfect blue--
An April day in the morning.

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!

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
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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.

The first of April, some do say
Is set apart for All Fools' day;
But why the read more

The first of April, some do say
Is set apart for All Fools' day;
But why the people call it so,
Nor I, nor they themselves, do know.

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.