The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
But not to me.
Evening, and all the birds
In a chorus of shimmering sound
Are easing their hearts of joy
For miles around.
It is not a word spoken,
Few words are said;
Nor even a look of the eyes
Nor a bend of the head,
But only a hush of the heart
It will not change now
After so many years;
Life has not broken it
With parting or tears;
Death will not alter it,
Less than the cloud to the wind,
Less than the foam to the sea,
Less than the rose to the storm,
Am I to thee.
The wind is tossing the lilacs,
The new leaves laugh in the sun,
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
I love my hour of wind and light,
I love men's faces and their eyes,
I love my spirit's veering flight
The faery forest glimmered
Beneath an ivory moon,
The silver grasses shimmered
Against a faery tune.
Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
In the spring I asked the daisies
If his words were true,
And the clever, clear-eyed daisies
Always knew.
