April
Oh, April brings the cuckoo-bird, and April
brings the rain,
April hangs a hundred sunny raindrops in the
lane,
She can wash the sky with woolly clouds of
purest white,
And gaily dress it up in rainbows, curving out
of sight.
Oh, April hangs the chestnut trees with spires
of white and pink,
And kisses all the primroses along the river’s
brink,
She peeps into the tiny nests where eggs are
hidden well,
And searches out the purple violets growing in
the dell.
Oh, April swings the apple blossom, sweet
against the sky
And chases all the bob-tail rabbits scuttling
gaily by,
She dances with the meadow cowslips, drooping
heads of gold,
Oh, April is the sweetest month that any year
can hold!