The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You’re one month on in the middle of May.

But if you so much as dare to breathe A word of your happiness in the field, The world will listen and shut its leaves. And you will find it harder to conceal.

The trees, even in the greenest of times, Spread their branches in anguish and shame; You will be reminded of ciphers and crimes That free men make in all the best names.

And though your heart’ll break as you wander, As light as a feather your tears will run, When you let go the burden of wonder, As pure as a shadow the end will come.

• Robert Frost