THE gusty and passionate March hath died; And now in the golden April-tide There sits in the shade of her jasmine bower A maid more fair than an April flower. The delicate curve of her perfect mouth, Whose tints grow warm in the fervid South, She stoops to press, as she murmurs low, On a note upraised in her hand of snow. What words are writ on the tiny scroll? What thoughts lie deep in the maiden's soul? Oh, is it with bliss of her love she sighs? Is the light but love's in those shy brown eyes? So thinks the mock-bird trilling his lay On the tremulous top of the lilac spray; He views the maid, on his perch apart, And his song is meant for her secret heart. So thinks the breeze, for its frolic free With the rose's stem, and the wing o' the bee It leaves, to sigh in the maiden's ear, "He is coming, sweet! he is almost here!" So thinks the sun, for his ardent beams Grow mellow and soft as a virgin's dreams, Through the vine-leaf shadows steal coyly down, And she wears his light like a bridal crown. Let the songster trill, and the breezes sigh, And the sun weave crowns of his light i' the sky; She heeds them not, for a step is heard, And her soul leaps up like a startled bird -- Her soul leaps up, but it is not fear: He is coming, sweet! he is here! is here! And she flies to his bosom, (ah! panting dove), And is folded home on the heart of love! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINTER TREE by WALTER R. ADAMS MYSELF by HARRIET ELLEN (GRANNIS) AREY MY GHOSTS by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS PSALM 104, SELECTION by RICHARD BLACKMORE HERE STOOD A HOUSE by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR THE HUMMING-BIRD by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON DAWNLIGHT ON THE SEA by ADA CAMBRIDGE THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: TO SIR THOMAS MOUNSON, KNIGHT AND BARONET by THOMAS CAMPION |