APRIL CONTRADICTIONS
I watchthe little pear buds breakAnd slip their silky sheaths,And flowers on the maples makeA thousand russet wreaths,—Then something blinds my sight, and IAm full of grief, yet know not why!A rosy purple half betraysThe wealth the lilacs fold;The torches of the tulips blazeIn flames of red and gold;Peach boughs are blossoming above,—But oh, the vague heartache thereof!The blue sky wears in gentle wiseIts loveliness again;All April sunshine,—yet mine eyesAre brimmed with April rain!The presage of sweet days to be,So strange a sadness stirs in me!
I watchthe little pear buds breakAnd slip their silky sheaths,And flowers on the maples makeA thousand russet wreaths,—Then something blinds my sight, and IAm full of grief, yet know not why!A rosy purple half betraysThe wealth the lilacs fold;The torches of the tulips blazeIn flames of red and gold;Peach boughs are blossoming above,—But oh, the vague heartache thereof!The blue sky wears in gentle wiseIts loveliness again;All April sunshine,—yet mine eyesAre brimmed with April rain!The presage of sweet days to be,So strange a sadness stirs in me!
I watchthe little pear buds breakAnd slip their silky sheaths,And flowers on the maples makeA thousand russet wreaths,—Then something blinds my sight, and IAm full of grief, yet know not why!
I watchthe little pear buds break
And slip their silky sheaths,
And flowers on the maples make
A thousand russet wreaths,
—Then something blinds my sight, and I
Am full of grief, yet know not why!
A rosy purple half betraysThe wealth the lilacs fold;The torches of the tulips blazeIn flames of red and gold;Peach boughs are blossoming above,—But oh, the vague heartache thereof!
A rosy purple half betrays
The wealth the lilacs fold;
The torches of the tulips blaze
In flames of red and gold;
Peach boughs are blossoming above,
—But oh, the vague heartache thereof!
The blue sky wears in gentle wiseIts loveliness again;All April sunshine,—yet mine eyesAre brimmed with April rain!The presage of sweet days to be,So strange a sadness stirs in me!
The blue sky wears in gentle wise
Its loveliness again;
All April sunshine,—yet mine eyes
Are brimmed with April rain!
The presage of sweet days to be,
So strange a sadness stirs in me!