In April

All day the grass made my feet glad;
I watched the bright life thrill
To each leaf-tip and flower-lip;
Swift winds that swept the hill,
In garden nook light lingering, shook
The budding daffodil.

I know not if the earth have kept
Work-day or festival:
The sparrow sings of nestling things,
Blithely the robins call;
And loud I hear, from marsh-pools near,
The hylas at nightfall.
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