Classic Poem

Now, April, slyly, to the dream-faced Year,
Tiptoes with mischief in her laughing eyes,
And sprinkles showers upon his frosty form
To wake him gaily with her mimic storm.
Or blows some vagrant snowflakes o'er his skies.

The drowsy Year wakes from his web of dreams,
Rubs eyes and yawns and limbers out his form,
While bird-songs drown the nocturn of the stars;
Blue rifts break smiling through the silver bars,
And crystal streams reflect the sunlight warm.

The snowdrifts turn their whiteness into tears;
Earth weeps in sunshine, laughs in fitful showers,
Doffs all her stately ermine robes of snow,
Bids them again to Thule's stormland go,
And gowns herself in grass and simple flowers.