In April


Outlined in red and saffron
Against a ground of grey,
Where last year's sedge o'erhangs the edge
That marks the river's way,
On shores so grey, and dull, and bare,
On shores so seeming dead —
The lips of life are breathing where
The willows turn to red,
Enriching all the sombre air
With glints of gold and red.


Without a dash of colour,
Untouched by red or gold,
The empty days are garbed in greys,
All passionless and cold,
O! heart of mine so dull and bare,
O! heart so seeming dead,
Thou hast no gems to number where
Love flashes gold and red,
He never limns the sombre air
For thee with gold and red.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.