Now spring comes up the world, sweetheart, What shall we find to do? The hills grow purple in the rain, The sea is gold and blue; The door is open to the sun, The window to the sky; The odor of the cherry bough, A freighted dream, goes by; The spruces tell the southwest wind Where the white windflowers are; The brooks are babbling in the dusk To one great yellow star; In all the April-coloured land, Where glints and murmurs stray, There's not a being that draws breath But will go mad to-day -- Go mad with piercing ecstasy, Afoot, afloat, awing, And wild with all the aching sweet Delirium of spring. Now April fills the world with love, There's not a thing to do But to be happy all night long, Then glad the whole day through. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AGAINST THEM WHO LAY UNCHASTITY TO THE SEX OF WOMAN by WILLIAM HABINGTON KILLED AT THE FORD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DELIVERANCE by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS THE BALLAD OF BITTER FRUIT by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE HERMAN; OR, THE BROKEN SPEAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM FAREWELL TO CUBA by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE, THE AUTHOR LEFT .. VERSE by ROBERT BURNS |