APRIL.

Come walk a mile with me —‘ Tis April weather;

A voice like Spring is calling: Let us go

Where violets are blooming on the heather,

And song-birds bend the branches to and fro;

For everywhere the very ground is springing,

And everywhere the grass is getting green —

How can I now — how can I keep from singing

When all the world is like a fairy scene!

The buds in all the trees, are ripe for bursting,

And fleecy catkins flutter everywhere,

And every little flower seems a-thirsting

For something sweet and beautiful and fair.

But look!— to Westward — see!— an April shower

Sudden has gathered, darkening the sun,

Yet wait!— beside me lifts a gentle flower,

That lights my pathway, blossoming alone;

And hark!— O hark, the meadow-lark is singing,

Greeting the storm from yon tall maple tree,

While, like a herald in its homeward winging,

Wheels a lone flicker o'er the darkening lea.