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April DaysDays of witchery, subtly sweet,When every hill and tree finds heart,When winter and spring like lovers meetIn the mist of noon and part -In the April days.Nights when the wood frogs faintly peepOnce - twice - and then are still,And the woodpeckers' martial voices sweepLike bugle notes from hill to hill -Through the pulseless haze.Days when the soil is warm with rain,And through the wood the shy wind steals,Rich with the pine and the poplar smell,And the joyous earth like a dancer reels -Trough april days.
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