The stranger warmth of the young sun obeying, <br />Look! little beads of green begin to grow, <br />And hidden flowers have dated their tops to show <br />Where late such droughty dusts were rudely playing. <br />It's not the month, but all the world's a-maying! <br />Come then with me, I'll take you, for I know <br />Where the first hedgethorns and white windflowers blow: <br />We two alone,, that goes without the saying. <br /> <br />The month has treacherous clouds and moves in fears. <br />This April shames the month itself with smiles: <br />In whose new eyes I know no heaven of tears, <br />But still serene desire and between whiles, <br />So great a look that even April's grace <br />Makes only marvel at her only face.<br /><br />Hilaire Belloc<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/month-of-april/
