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...PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT by AMY LOWELL THE EXPANDED COMPOSITION by CLARENCE MAJOR OLD TRAILS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON DON JUAN'S SONG by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE POET'S TESTAMENT by GEORGE SANTAYANA |