AT April's end, when blossoms break To birth upon my apple-tree, I know the certain year will take Full harvest of this infancy. At April's end, when comes the dear Occasion of your valley tune, I know your beauty's arc is here, A little ghostly morning moon. Yet are these fosterlings of rhyme As fortunately born to spend Happy conspiracies with time As apple flowers at April's end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN 'DESIGNING A CLOAK TO CLOAK HIS DESIGNS' YOU WRESTED FROM OBLIVION by MARIANNE MOORE AFFIRMATION by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE SLAVE'S DREAM by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW CIVIL WAR by CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY THE CLOAK, THE BOAT, AND THE SHOES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |