April Music
Thy lyric sound of laughter
Fills all the April hills.
The joy song of the crocus,
Thy mirth of daffodils --
They ring their golden changes
Through all the azure vales;
The sunny cowslips answer
Athwart the reedy swales.
Far down the woodland aisleways
The trillium's voice is heard;
The little wavering windflowers
Join in with jocund word.
The white cry of the dogwood
Mounts up against the sky;
The breath of violet music
Upon the breeze goes by.
Give me to hear, O April,
These choristers of thine
Calling across the distance
Serene and hyaline,
To clear my clouded vision,
Bedimmed and dulled so long,
And heal my aching spirit
With fragrance that is song!
-- Clinton Scollard
From my mother's poetry notebook
Thy lyric sound of laughter
Fills all the April hills.
The joy song of the crocus,
Thy mirth of daffodils --
They ring their golden changes
Through all the azure vales;
The sunny cowslips answer
Athwart the reedy swales.
Far down the woodland aisleways
The trillium's voice is heard;
The little wavering windflowers
Join in with jocund word.
The white cry of the dogwood
Mounts up against the sky;
The breath of violet music
Upon the breeze goes by.
Give me to hear, O April,
These choristers of thine
Calling across the distance
Serene and hyaline,
To clear my clouded vision,
Bedimmed and dulled so long,
And heal my aching spirit
With fragrance that is song!
-- Clinton Scollard
From my mother's poetry notebook
