 | Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) |  |
139
APRIL RAIN.
Down from thy home of cloud and mist
O fall lovingly, April rain!
Wash the gray from the amethyst,—
Melt the hearts of these lingering drifts,—
Plead till thy patient lips have kissed
The earth to its spring-life: the while thy gifts,—
Joy, hope, freshness,—thou lavishest
Wide over hill and plain!
O fall lovingly, April rain!
Wash the gray from the amethyst,—
Melt the hearts of these lingering drifts,—
Plead till thy patient lips have kissed
The earth to its spring-life: the while thy gifts,—
Joy, hope, freshness,—thou lavishest
Wide over hill and plain!
Call to the robin, whose ruddy breast
Throbs with the joy of his first sweet strain;
Bid him put on his brightest vest,
Bid him come up in the elms and sing,—
Sing his sweetest, and flutter his best,
Till our full hearts ache with the joy of spring,—
Ache with a blissful pain oppressed,
Beautiful April rain!
Throbs with the joy of his first sweet strain;
Bid him put on his brightest vest,
Bid him come up in the elms and sing,—
Sing his sweetest, and flutter his best,
Till our full hearts ache with the joy of spring,—
Ache with a blissful pain oppressed,
Beautiful April rain!
Over the graves of the loved asleep
O fall tenderly, April rain!
Not with a loud and passionate sweep,
But quietly, like the fall of tears
From the loving eyes of those who weep
The beauty and bliss which coming years,
Whatever measures of joy they heap,
Can never restore again!
O fall tenderly, April rain!
140
But quietly, like the fall of tears
From the loving eyes of those who weep
The beauty and bliss which coming years,
Whatever measures of joy they heap,
Can never restore again!
Call to the timid flowers, which stay
In the prisoning earth, where the drifts have lain;
With thy pattering fingers brush away
The leaves which wrap them like burial shrouds;
Lure them out to the loving day,
Bid them come up in blushing crowds
To broider the dripping skirts of May,
Beautiful April rain!
In the prisoning earth, where the drifts have lain;
With thy pattering fingers brush away
The leaves which wrap them like burial shrouds;
Lure them out to the loving day,
Bid them come up in blushing crowds
To broider the dripping skirts of May,
Beautiful April rain!
Over the hopes which moulder low
O fall tenderly, April rain!
Buried away from us long ago,
Under the wearisome world's dead leaves,—
Lifeless and voiceless,—who may know
But haply thy vital voice, that gives
Life and leaf to the roots below,
May bid them arise again?
O fall tenderly, April rain!
Buried away from us long ago,
Under the wearisome world's dead leaves,—
Lifeless and voiceless,—who may know
But haply thy vital voice, that gives
Life and leaf to the roots below,
May bid them arise again?
| Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) | |