When the warm sun, that brings <br />Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, <br />'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs <br />The first flower of the plain. <br /> <br />I love the season well, <br />When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, <br />Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell <br />The coming-on of storms. <br /> <br />From the earth's loosened mould <br />The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; <br />Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, <br />The drooping tree revives. <br /> <br />The softly-warbled song <br />Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings <br />Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along <br />The forest openings. <br /> <br />When the bright sunset fills <br />The silver woods with light, the green slope throws <br />Its shadows in the hollows of the hills, <br />And wide the upland glows. <br /> <br />And when the eve is born, <br />In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far, <br />Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn, <br />And twinkles many a star. <br /> <br />Inverted in the tide <br />Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw, <br />And the fair trees look over, side by side, <br />And see themselves below. <br /> <br />Sweet April! many a thought <br />Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; <br />Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, <br />Life's golden fruit is shed.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/earlier-poems-an-april-day/
