April

You come in sunlight or through the rain, Wide marches wake, while seasons stay beside— And my abundant feet, your shores dost praise, Though at dawn, the creatures along must glide.

With gales in whispers glancing sober far, And still the trees drift through the soft sweet mar, You come again—where flow’rs all marvel end, Where there lays no par as you vine my floor.

Yet the slow feet of the night must wine so pee, And my own heart’s long dwell blissful for thee! For all the stars that glance? their hearts unbind Shall blossom in dances away your rime!

• John Masefield