In April time, flowers come like dreams; —
The nightingales, and cuckoo's sing, —
The may-fly setling on the streams,
Makes wrinkles with its russet wing: —
The rivers sedge is sprouting green,
The mare-blobs are in burnished gold,
The daisies spread about the green,
And all is lovely to behold. —


The skylark winnows in the air,
And cheers the valley with his song;
The slopes are green, the scene is fair,
And herd-boys whistle all day long.
The ash tree's they are full of flower,
The fallen ones float on the stream;
The sun through haze like misty shower,
Shines warmly on the lovely scene.


The meadows they are emerald green,
The river sparkles with the light; —
Like snow storms are the orchard seen; —
The fields are with daisies white,
The buttercups are buds of green; —
That bye-and bye-are flowers of Gold,
The fields look warm, the air serene,
And all is lovely to behold.


'Tis spring the april of the year,
The holiday of birds and flowers,
Some build ere yet the leaves appear,
While others wait for safer hours: —
Hid in green leaves that shun the shower,
They're safe and happy all along —
The meanest weed now finds a flower,
The simplest bird will learn a song.
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