The April night is still and sweet With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me. My peace is hidden in his breast Where I shall never be, Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CHRISTMAS HYMN (OLD STYLE: 1837) by ALFRED DOMETT AN ANTE-BELLUM SERMON by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A CHRISTMAS FOLK-SONG by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE THE WOODSPURGE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI FROM POOLS OF DEEPER THOUGHT by MAUDE HARDY ARNOLD THE ELDER'S WARNING; A LAY OF THE CONVOCATION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN CONCLUDING VERSES, AFTER RETURNING HOME FROM AN AUTUMNAL MORNING WALK by BERNARD BARTON |