April's skies are jeweled, April's suns are gold; In my eager, upturned hands Lovingly I hold All the glint of April's days -- All the wonder of her ways! Through my futile fingers April's treasures pass -- Sifting, shifting, drifting to The jacinth-'broidered grass -- All her blue and gold and rose, All the wealth that April knows! May will bring her festival, June will bring her gems, August, too, shall trail her robes With firefly-spangled hems; All the glories can't replace April's kirtle wrought of lace! Soon with footsteps fugitive April will depart. April, breathe your mysteries Deep within my heart, That my listening soul may hear April music all the year! |