 | Orellana and Other Poems |  |
219
APRIL.
Yonder comes April, on her lip a smileAnd in her eye a tear! She has the look
Of one whose face is as an open book
Yet thinks her harmless secret safe the while.
Her half-aversion is a childish wile
To win a welcome from you; in the nook
Of the sweet eye a tear has just forsook
Lurks a blue ring that would a saint beguile!
—How shall we welcome her? Why, as a child
Returning from a ramble, half afraid
Her absence may have vexed her mother mild,
While through the pathless woods alone she strayed;
And waiting till her father once has smiled
And spread his arms and called his little maid.
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