Classic Poem

Sweetheart, comes laughing April now
To right the Winter's wrong;
And back to the forsaken bough
The bluebird comes with song:
And, rivals of the stars above,
Stars in the grass you see;
So, like your namesake, April, Love—
My April, come to me!

She brings the blossom to the vine,
A token fresh and new;
She fills the crocus cup with wine,
A pledge that she is true;
She sends the sunshine after rain,
A golden augury:
Sweetheart, and must I plead in vain?
My April, come to me!

Oh, Winter lies upon my heart
A dreariness and woe:
It needs but your dear smile to start
The buds of hope to blow;
It needs but your sweet lips to bring
The message that shall be
Like April's own, all love and Spring:
My April, come to me!