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6
APRIL
O brief and swift and sweet,April appears,
Fickle, and shy, and fleet,
Laughing through tears.
Fitful and all afret,
With shower and gleam,
Magical mischief, yet
Greenly adream.
For she, so frailly fair,
Shall bring to pass
Pomps of the purple air,
Glory of grass.
Surely the elf shall yield
With moody moon,
Gold of the mellow field,
Riches of noon.
E'en as a girl unsure,
With hair unbound,
7
To song profound.
And, though she may not reap,
But passeth by,
She shall array the deep
Rose of July.
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