In April

WHEN Spring unbound comes o’er us like a flood,

W

My spirit slips its bars,

And thrills to see the trees break into bud

As skies break into stars;

And joys that earth is green with eager grass,

The heavens gray with rain,

And quickens when the spirit breezes pass,

And turn and pass again;

And dreams upon frog melodies at night,

Bird ecstasies at dawn,

And wakes to find sweet April at her height

And May still beck’ning on;

And feels its sordid work, its empty play,

Its failures and its stains

Dissolved in blossom dew, and washed away

In delicate spring rains.

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