April

"Oh 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 In England - now!"

"Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, And smale fowles maken melodye, That slepen al the night with open yë, (So priketh hem nature in hir corages): Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages (And palmers for to seken straunge strondes) To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes; And specially, from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The holy blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke."

"April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers."

"By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world."

"Of all the months that fill the year Give April's month to me, For earth and sky are then so filled With sweet variety !"

"Will you not come home, brother? you have been long away, It's April, and blossom time, and white is the spray; And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain, -­ Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?"

"I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain: I have seen the lady April bringing the daffodils, Bringing the springing grass and the soft warm April rain."

"Praise the spells and bless the charms, I found April in my arms. April golden, April cloudy, Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy; April soft in flowered languor, April cold with sudden anger, Ever changing, ever true— I love April, I love you."

"If April showers Should come your way, They bring the flowers That bloom in May."

"April, April, Laugh thy girlish laughter; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears! April, that mine ears Like a lover greetest, If I tell thee, sweetest, All my hopes and fears, April, April, Laugh thy golden laughter, But, the moment after, Weep thy golden tears!"

"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 multitude Of golden chalices to humming birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky."

"Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms 'neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away."

"Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, Apple-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content."

"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!"

"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!"

"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."

"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."

"The children with the streamlets sing, When April stops at last her weeping; And every happy growing thing Laughs like a babe just roused from sleeping."

"I love the season well When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming on of storms."

"Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, Life's golden fruit is shed."

"Sweet April-time—O cruel April-time! Year after year returning, with a brow Of promise, and red lips with longing paled, And backward-hidden hands that clutch the joys Of vanished springs, like flowers."

"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."

"The lyric sound of laughter Fills all the April hills, The joy-song of the crocus, The mirth of daffodils."

"When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads."

"When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in everything."

"Spongy April."

"Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May"

"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."

"Sweet April showers Do bring May flowers."

"Again the blackbirds sing; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers."