SOFTLY sighs the April air, Ere the coming of the May; Of the tranquil night aware, Murmur nightingale and jay; Then, when dewy dawn doth rise, Every bird in his own tongue Wakes his mate with happy cries; All their joy abroad is flung. Gladness, lo! is everywhere When the first leaf sees the day; And shall I alone despair, Turning from sweet love away? Something to my heart replies, Thou too wast for rapture strung; Wherefore else the dreams that rise Round thee when the year is young? One, than Helen yet more fair, Loveliest blossom of the May, Rose-tints hath and sunny hair, And a gracious mien and gay; Heart that scorneth all disguise, Lips where pearls of truth are hung,— God, who gives all sovereignties, Knows her like was never sung. Though she lead through long despair, I would never say her nay, If one kiss—reward how rare!— Each new trial might repay. Swift returns I'd then devise, Many labors, but not long. Following so fair a prize I could nevermore go wrong. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAR THAT ISN'T WHAT YOU THINK by JAMES GALVIN DAYBREAK by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS PORPHYRIA'S LOVER by ROBERT BROWNING A MEDITATION ON RHODE ISLAND COAL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A VALEDICTION: OF MY NAME IN THE WINDOW by JOHN DONNE THE BARD; A PINDARIC ODE by THOMAS GRAY LEXINGTON [APRIL 19, 1775] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES |