AT April's end, when blossoms break To birth upon my apple-tree, I know the certain year will take Full harvest of this infancy. At April's end, when comes the dear Occasion of your valley tune, I know your beauty's arc is here, A little ghostly morning moon. Yet are these fosterlings of rhyme As fortunately born to spend Happy conspiracies with time As apple flowers at April's end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOUSE WITH THE MARBLE STEPS by AMY LOWELL THE SPANISH FRIAR: 1-3. LOVE'S DESPAIR by JOHN DRYDEN THE NATIONAL PAINTINGS: COL. TRUMBULL'S 'THE DECLARATION...' by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 1 by EZRA POUND ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 7. TO REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER by MARK AKENSIDE CHRISTMAS HYMN by HARRIET AUBER |