Or didst thou rest upon the bare brown branches
And hear the sap go singing through the trees?—
Didst watch with keen, far-seeing downward glances,
The leaves unlock their cells with fairy keys?
What though thy voice hath not a trace of sweetness
It thrills one through and through,
With promises of Joy in all completeness
What time the skies are blue.
When robins from the apple-trees are flinging
Out on the air their silver shower of song,—
In lilac days, when children run a-singing,
No single thought shall do thy memory wrong.
"Winter is over and the spring is coming!"
Sweet are thy tidings, little page in black—
"Winter is over and the spring is coming—
The spring is coming back!"
WHEN APRIL COMES!
When April comes with softly shining eyes,
And daffodils bound in her wind-blown hair,
Oh, she will coax all clouds from out the skies,
And every day will bring some sweet surprise,—
The swallows will come swinging through the air
When April comes!
When April comes with tender smile and tear,
Dear dandelions will gild the common ways,
And at the break of morning we will hear
The piping of the robins crystal clear—
While bobolinks will whistle through the days,
When April comes!
When April comes, the world so wise and old,
Will half forget that it is worn and grey;
Winter will seem but as a tale long told—
Its bitter winds with all its frost and cold
Will be the by-gone things of yesterday,
When April comes!
KISMET
Love came to her unsought,
Love served her many ways,
And patiently Love followed her
Throughout the nights and days.
Love spent his life for her
And hid his tears and sighs;
He bartered all his soul for her,
With tender pleading eyes.