Wildenblue Farm Journal

Again the blackbirds sings; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers. ~John Greenleaf Whittier

April's Charms by William Henry Davies

When April scatters charms of primrose gold 

Among the copper leaves in thickets old, 

And singing skylarks from the meadows rise, 

To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;

When I can hear the small woodpecker ring 

Time on a tree for all the birds that sing; 

And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long -- 

The simple bird that thinks two notes a song;

When I can hear the woodland brook, that could 

Not drown a babe, with all his threatening mood; 

Upon these banks the violets make their home, 

And let a few small strawberry blossoms come:

When I go forth on such a pleasant day, 

One breath outdoors takes all my cares away; 

It goes like heavy smoke, when flames take hold 

Of wood that's green and fill a grate with gold.

An April Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When the warm sun, that brings

Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,

'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs

The first flower of the plain.

I love the season well,

When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,

Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell

The coming-on of storms.

From the earth's loosened mould

The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;

Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold,

The drooping tree revives.

The softly-warbled song

Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings

Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along

The forest openings.

When the bright sunset fills

The silver woods with light, the green slope throws

Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,

And wide the upland glows.

And when the eve is born,

In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,

Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,

And twinkles many a star.

Inverted in the tide

Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,

And the fair trees look over, side by side,

And see themselves below.

Sweet April! many a thought

Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;

Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,

Life's golden fruit is shed.

The lyric sound of laughter Fills all the April hills The joy-song of the crocus, The mirth of daffodils. ~Clinton Scollard

I love the season well When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming of storms. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow