MY APRIL LADY
by: Henry van Dyke (1852-1933)
- HEN down the stair at morning
- The sunbeams round her float,
- Sweet rivulets of laughter
- Are bubbling in her throat;
- The gladness of her greeting
- Is gold without alloy;
- And in the morning sunlight
- I think her name is Joy.
-
- When in the evening twilight
- The quiet book-room lies,
- We read the sad old ballads,
- While from her hidden eyes
- The tears are falling, falling,
- That give her heart relief;
- And in the evening twilight,
- I think her name is Grief.
-
- My little April lady,
- Of sunshine and of showers,
- She weaves the old spring magic,
- And breaks my heart in flowers!
- But when her moods are ended,
- She nestles like a dove;
- Then, by the pain and rapture,
- I know her name is Love.
"My April Lady" is reprinted
from The White Bees and Other Poems. Henry van Dyke. New
York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909. |
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POEMS BY HENRY VAN DYKE |
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