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Oh, the lovely fickleness of an April day!
Oh, the lovely fickleness of an April day!
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.
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.
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.
For April sobs while these are so glad
April weeps while these are so gay,--
Weeps like read more
For April sobs while these are so glad
April weeps while these are so gay,--
Weeps like a tired child who had,
Playing with flowers, lost its way.
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.
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.