Red windy dawn, Swift rain and sunny; Blossom on the plum. Grass begins to grow, Rough winds beat and blow, Blossom on the plum. Nora Hopper [18 The WRITTEN IN MARCH THE Cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated On the top of the bare hill; The ploughboy is whooping-anon-anon There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone! William Wordsworth [1770-1850] Home Thoughts, From Abroad 1309 THE PASSING OF MARCH THE braggart March stood in the season's door With violets in her hands, and in her hair Half-parted from her breast, which seemed like fair, Dawn-tinted mountain snow, smooth-drifted there. She on the blusterer's arm laid one white hand, And he, at last, in ruffian tenderness, With one swift, crushing kiss her lips did greet. Ah, poor starved heart!—for that one rude caress, She cast her violets underneath his feet. Robert Burns Wilson [1850 HOME THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD Он, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough And after April, when May follows And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops-at the bent spray's edgeThat's the wise thrush: he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, Robert Browning [1812-1889] SONG APRIL, April, Laugh thy girlish laughter; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears! April, that mine ears Like a lover greetest, Laugh thy golden laughter, Weep thy golden tears! William Watson [1858 AN APRIL ADORATION SANG the sunrise on an amber morn- "Winter's done, and April's in the skies, Putting off her dumb dismay of snow, Then the sound of growing in the air And the thronged succession of the days Sweet Wild April Laughed the running sap in every vein, Laughed the life in every wandering root, God in all the concord of their mirth Heard the adoration-song of Earth. Charles G. D. Roberts [1860 SWEET WILD APRIL O SWEET Wild April Came over the hills, He skipped with the winds And he tripped with the rills; His raiment was all Of the daffodils. Sing hi, Sing hey, Sing ho! O sweet wild April Came down the lea, Dancing along With his sisters three: Carnation, and Rose, And tall Lily. Sing hi, Sing hey, O sweet wild April, On pastoral quill Came piping in moonlight In starlight at midnight, By dingle and rill. Sing ho! 1311 |