The April night is still and sweet With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me. My peace is hidden in his breast Where I shall never be, Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEGY: 9. THE AUTUMNAL [BEAUTY] by JOHN DONNE JOGGIN' ERLONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CYNTHIA SLEEPING IN A GARDEN; A SONNET by PHILIP AYRES A CURLEW'S CALL by JANE BARLOW THE DEAD MISTRESS by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE STANZAS IN PROSPECT OF DEATH by ROBERT BURNS THE STAFF AND THE TREE by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE |