JOHN HALL WHEELOCK APRIL RAIN Fall, rain! You are the blood of coming blossom, You shall be music in the young birds' throats, You shall be breaking, soon, in silver notes; A virgin laughter in the young earth's bosom. Oh, that I could with you reënter earth, Pass through her heart and come again to sun, Out of her fertile dark to sing and run In loveliness and fragrance of new mirth! Fall, rain! Into the dust I go with you, Pierce the remaining snows with subtle fire, Warming the frozen roots with soft desire, Dreams of ascending leaves and flowers new. I am no longer body,--I am blood Seeking for some new loveliness of shape; Dark loveliness that dreams of new escape, The sun-surrender of unclosing bud. Take me, O Earth! and make me what you will; I feel my heart with mingled music fill. CONRAD AIKEN WHILE APRIL RAIN WENT BY Under a budding hedge I hid While April rain went by, But little drops came slipping through, Fresh from a laughing sky: A-many little scurrying drops, Laughing the song they sing, Soon found me where I sought to hide, And pelted me with Spring. And I lay back and let them pelt, And dreamt deliciously Of lusty leaves and lady-blossoms And baby-buds I'd see When April rain had laughed the land Out of its wintry way, And coaxed all growing things to greet With gracious garb the May. SHAEMAS O SHEEL SPRING The dews drip roses on the meadows Where the meek daisies dot the sward. And Æolus whispers through the shadows, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord!" The golden news the skylark waketh And 'thwart the heavens his flight is curled; Attend ye as the first note breaketh And chrism droppeth on the world. The velvet dusk still haunts the stream Where Pan makes music light and gay. The mountain mist hath caught a beam And slowly weeps itself away. The young leaf bursts its chrysalis And gem-like hangs upon the bough, Where the mad throstle sings in bliss O'er earth's rejuvenated brow. ENVOI Slowly fall, O golden sands, Slowly fall and let me sing, Wrapt in the ecstasy of youth, The wild delights of Spring. FRANCIS LEDWIDGE APRIL WEATHER Oh, hush, my heart, and take thine ease, For here is April weather! The daffodils beneath the trees Are all a-row together. The thrush is back with his old note; The scarlet tulip blowing; And white--ay, white as my love's throat-- The dogwood boughs are glowing. The lilac bush is sweet again; Down every wind that passes, Fly flakes from hedgerow and from lane; The bees are in the grasses.