APRIL is sad, as if the end she knew. The maple's misty red, the willow's gold Face-deep in nimble water, seem to hold In hope's own weather their autumnal hue. There is no wind, no star, no sense of dew, But the thin vapors gird the mountain old, And the moon, risen before the west is cold, Pale with compassion slopes into the blue. Under the shining dark the day hath passed Shining; so even of thee was home bereaved, Thou dear and pensive spirit! overcast Hardly at all, but drawn from light to light, Who in the doubtful hour, and unperceived, Rebuked adoring hearts with change and flight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MERCILES BEAUTE; A TRIPLE ROUNDEL: 3. ESCAPE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER by FRANCIS SCOTT KEY THE HOUSE WITH NOBODY IN IT by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER SUNDAY MORNING by WALLACE STEVENS RUINS OF CORINTH by ANTIPATER OF SIDON CHORUS FROM A TRAGEDY by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) VERSES, OCCASIONED BY AN AFFECTING INSTANCE OF SUDDEN DEATH by BERNARD BARTON |