APRIL, when I heard Your lyrical low word, And when upon the hawthorn hedge your first white blossoms stirred, Something strangely came -- Something I cannot name -- And touched my heart, and cleansed my soul with a reviving flame. When the yellow gleam Of your hosts that stream -- Jonquil, buttercup, and crocus -- made the world a golden dream, Something, April, said To my heart that bled -- Bled with old remembrance -- "Lo! the grief-strewn days are fled!" @3Sursum corda!@1 Now, When blooms the apple-bough, April, of your pity, let your light rain kiss my brow; Heal me, if you will; Bathe my heart until I am one with your first primrose or the shining daffodil! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 18 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A SOLILOQUY; OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRPING OF A GRASSHOPPER by WALTER HARTE HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 5 by EZRA POUND SHERIDAN'S RIDE [DECEMBER 19, 1864] by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ VICTORIAN JOURNALISM by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB TREE-BUILDING by FRANKLIN CABLE A LADY'S PORTRAIT by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE THE ADVENTURES OF SIMON SWAUGUM, A VILLAGE MERCHANT by PHILIP FRENEAU |