Now spring comes up the world, sweetheart, What shall we find to do? The hills grow purple in the rain, The sea is gold and blue; The door is open to the sun, The window to the sky; The odor of the cherry bough, A freighted dream, goes by; The spruces tell the southwest wind Where the white windflowers are; The brooks are babbling in the dusk To one great yellow star; In all the April-coloured land, Where glints and murmurs stray, There's not a being that draws breath But will go mad to-day -- Go mad with piercing ecstasy, Afoot, afloat, awing, And wild with all the aching sweet Delirium of spring. Now April fills the world with love, There's not a thing to do But to be happy all night long, Then glad the whole day through. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TAM O' SHANTER by ROBERT BURNS A POET'S EPITAPH by EBENEZER ELLIOTT AN EGYPTIAN PULLED GLASS BOTTLE IN THE SHAPE OF A FISH by MARIANNE MOORE ON THE SOUL by PUBLIUS AELIUS HADRIANUS THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE |