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April SWEET April, with thy mingling tears and smiles, Dear maid-child of the changing months that art, What wit so blunt, what breast with sorrow's smart So sore but must confess thy tender wiles? What woes but thy capricious charm beguiles? At thy sweet sight, the winter-thoughts depart And with glad lips men say and gleeful heart, "Belike we yet shall greet the Golden Isles." Pale as thy primrose, as thy violets sweet, Thy varying stint thou fill'st of dainty days; Yet, though thy bright prime passeth, still shall praise And blessing follow on thy flitting feet Nor Summer's sheen thy memory make less dear, That bring'st the first-fruits of the flowering year. John Payne's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2721 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |