APRIL is past, then do not shed, Nor do not waste in vain, Upon thy mother's earthy bed, Thy tears of silver rain. Thou canst not hope that her cold earth, By wat'ring will bring forth A flower like thee, or will give birth To one of the like worth. 'Tis true the rain fall'n from the sky, Or from the clouded air, Doth make the earth to fructify, And makes the heaven more fair. With thy dear face it is not so, Which if once overcast, If thou rain down thy showers of woe, They, like the Sirens', blast. Therefore when sorrow shall becloud Thy fair serenest day, Weep not, my sighs shall be allow'd To chase the storm away. Consider that the teeming vine, If cut by chance do weep, Doth bear no grapes to make the wine, But feels eternal sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ADAM WEIRAUCH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE GARDEN OF LOVE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SUMMER DAYS by WATHEN MARK WILKS CALL WRINKLES by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD. THE AUTHOR THAN FORTY by MATTHEW PRIOR KARMA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON JOLLY NOSE by WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH SPANISH WINGS: SENORITA by H. BABCOCK MR. PETER'S STORY: THE BAGMAN'S DOG by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |