April now walks the fields again, Trailing her tearful leaves And holding all her frightened buds against her heart: Wrapt in her clouds and mists, She walks, Groping her way among the graves of men. The green of earth is differently green, A dreadful knowledge trembles in the grass, And little wide-eyed flowers die too soon: There is a stillness here -- After a terror of all raving sounds -- And birds sit close for comfort upon the boughs Of broken trees. April, thou grief! What of thy sun and glad, high wind, Thy valiant hills and woods and eager brooks, Thy thousand-petalled hopes? The sky forbids thee sorrow, April! And yet -- I see thee walking listlessly Across those scars that once were joyous sod, Those graves, Those stepping-stones from life to life. Death is an interruption between two heart-beats, That I know -- Yet know not how I know -- But April mourns, Trailing her tender green, The passion of her green, Across the passion of those fearful fields. Yes, all the fields! No barrier here, No challenge in the night, No stranger-land; She passes with her perfect countersign, Her green; She wanders in her mournful garden, Dropping her buds like tears, Spreading her lovely grief upon the graves of man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: TALK by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET LEFT-HANDED POEM by JAMES GALVIN DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FRAGMENT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON BRUTUS AND ANTONY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY BAKER, AT NEW YORK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HENRY PHIPPS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |