An April Day
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lets read,
When the warm sun, that brings
Seed time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
the first flower of the plain.
I love the season well,
when forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
From the earth's loosened mould
The saplings draws its sustenance, and thrives,
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold,
The drooping tree revives.
The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.
When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hill,
And wide the upland glows.
