April

Between the sudden sunlight and the rain
The birds sing gayly in the path wherethrough
I walk, and note the sky's ethereal blue, —
Pure as the peace that 's won, at last, from pain.
The sunshine and the sun-bright showers ordain
A festival of laughing flowers, whereto
The bees go buzzing past me; trees renew
Their lives of green; the whole land smiles again.

O April, longed for so through cheerless hours.
Thou who dost turn to silver winter's gray!
What is it ails thy skies, thy birds, thy flowers,
Gives to thy winds a mournful word to say,
And brings a sound of weeping with the showers, -
What, but the thought of Aprils passed away?