APRIL this year, not otherwise Than April of a year ago, Is full of whispers, full of sighs, Of dazzling mud and dingy snow; Hepaticas that pleased you so Are here again, and butterflies. There rings a hammering all day, And shingles lie about the doors; In orchards near and far away The grey wood-pecker taps and bores; And men are merry at their chores, And children earnest at their play. The larger streams run still and deep, Noisy and swift the small brooks run Among the mullein stalks the sheep Go up the hillside in the sun, Pensively, -- only you are gone, You that alone I cared to keep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPISTLE TO JAMES SMITH by ROBERT BURNS THE BANKS O' DOON by ROBERT BURNS ADVICE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES KILLED IN ACTION by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 83 by ALFRED TENNYSON FELDMESTEN OR MEASURING THE GRAVES by ALTER ABELSON ARMSTRONG'S GOOD NIGHT by THOMAS ARMSTRONG EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 22. 'TIS HONOURABLE TO BE LOVE'S MARTYR by PHILIP AYRES |