It's that roustabout, born of a fairy mother -- Playfellow month that never grew old, Cradled in the moon with the wind to brother, Fed on tempests and sun and cold. Whisk of rain and a bag of blowing, Sudden sun like a dream of light, Dart of birds and a violet growing Clouds that shake out stars at night. Kiss of the woods on an uptown corner, Maple wings through my winter door, When I am sick of life, a scorner, Trip me up, April -- laugh once more! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS OF TRAVEL: 44 by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE by HENRY WOTTON THE SUPPLIANTS: THE WORLD'S HARMONIOUS PLAN by AESCHYLUS AT SABBATH DOWN by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON PSALM 4. CUM INVOCAREM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |