LIKE a shower, breeze-suspended, Caught and played with by the air, April from the sky descended, Tricked by sunshine unaware, To a pale green fountain fashioned, Silver shaft with airy fling, Tremulous and sun-impassioned Is the birch-tree in the spring. Like the spirit of the fountain -- Seen when earth was yet a child -- Leaping, white-armed, from the mountain, Laughing, beckoning, water-wild, Sheen of mist her beauty veiling, Which she only half can hide, Garments o'er her white feet trailing, Seems the birch at summer-tide. |