April Begins Her Review
Warm fingers all gently are tapping
Their rhythm on glad window-panes.
Bright goblets of gold are refilling
With diamonds of crystalline rains.
Joy's horsemen are merrily riding.
With magic in each silver hoof,
Their steeds are now galloping, prancing,
And stamping on each sunning roof.
They dance on the meadow-pavilions
Fresh-carpeted emerald green
Gold-sprigged, by the weaver of beauty,
And starred with white clover between.
The voice of the southwind announcing,
The music, a lark-retinue,
With gay crocus footlights, illuming,
Blond April begins her review.