April delicious
Young, sunny maiden,
Arch, gusty, capricious,
With fresh flowers laden,
After dead winter long
Thrill us with sweet bird-song,
After dry March’s drought,
Blow from thy rainy mouth!
Hasten to kiss us
With the fresh daffodil
Through and through golden !
On green bank, by every rill
Pale cowslips embolden,
And white narcissus
Make o’er his dreaming pool
His wan face beautiful
Hang like a lover.
Set for the honey-bees
Budding anemonies
And pink white clover.
Now on the greening leas
Hasten, oh hasten up,
In yellow companies
The laughing buttercup,
And to the meadow-pomp
Lure, lure the children out.
In mad crowds with merry shout
To pull them, dance, and romp
By their glad nurses.
And fresh green sights to woo,
Thy lovely face to view
Lure, lure the poet too,
Humming his verses!
I will not praise thee, April, if thou spare
Of all thy stormy freshness, one slant shower
To take the grey east from the shrinking air
And slake the wind-choked miserable parch
Of a bleak world that trembles out of March.
I will not sing of thee unless thou flower
Millions of daisies, hour by sunlit hour,
To jewel the simple grass out of the skies
With less cold, nearer stars, and make earth paradise.
Oh to be flowery,
Dripping and balmy,
Call up the showery
White clouds, an army I
Shallow and freshet flush
Green as the grasses lush;
By shady soft degrees
Thicken the leafy trees
To reach out dreamily
Wall and lane over,
Till in fresh groves are heard,
In the green clover,
Warbling their lays each bird
Over and over.
Curd wild brooks creamily;
Let not the bulrush lag,
Quicken the flowering flag,
Till in reeds stilly
Soon the wild swan shall nest
Preening his dazzling breast
By the oped lily.
Make listening echo sweet
By the full waterfall,
Dimly and oft repeat
The haunting cuckoo-call.
With all that shady is
Hasten to bower the land!
Elm, oak, and tall beech grand
Of dim isles that lady is
Where greenness shall hover.
And where a tall thin mist
Rises, the green wheat whist,
Chatters the crake; make tryst
Fond lass and lover!
Haste, April, upon city streets to blow
Thy purest, warmest breezes; fly beneath
The flower-girl’s rags, poor beggary’s basket stow
With lordliest gold of daffodils aglow.
I will not love thee, save with sighing breath
On pale, worn cheeks thou waft reprieve of death.
Come in a wash of fragrance, let sick eyes
See leaves bud, bird-song hear through windowed
paradise.
(Manmohan Ghose)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Youth Poems, Flowers Poems, Birds Poems, Literature Poems, Children Poems, Poets Poems, Dancing Poems, Madness Poems, Haste PoemsBased on Keywords: chatters, honey-bees, beggary, stow, windowed, preening, anemonies, crake, cuckoo-call, flower-girl, creamily