THE APRIL BOUGHS

It was not then her heart broke —

That moment when she knew

That all her faith held holiest

Was utterly untrue.

It was not then her heart broke —

That night of prayer and tears

When first she dared the thought of life

Through all the empty years.

But when beneath the April boughs

She felt the blossoms stir,

The careless mirth of yesterday

Came near and smiled at her.

Old singing lingered in the wind,

Old joy came close again,

Oh, underneath the April boughs,

I think her heart broke then.