How deep the April night is in its noon, <br />The hopeful, solemn, many-murmured night! <br />The earth lies hushed with expectation; bright <br />Above the world's dark border burns the moon, <br />Yellow and large; from forest floorways, strewn <br />With flowers, and fields that tingle with new birth, <br />The moist smell of the unimprisoned earth <br />Come up, a sigh, a haunting promise. Soon, <br /> <br />Ah, soon, the teeming triumph! At my feet <br />The river with its stately sweep and wheel <br />Moves on slow-motioned, luminous, gray like steel. <br />From fields far off whose watery hollows gleam, <br />Aye with blown throats that make the long hours sweet, <br />The sleepless toads are murmuring in their dreams.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/april-night/
