POETRY.
APRIL WEATHER.
MY love is like an April day
So smiling sad, so cold, so bright; For now she'd have me far away, Yet pity puts the thought to flight.
And now she would I'd never told, And now she'd hear my tale again; Is fond, but half inclined to scold, Vows she loves not, yet vows in vain.
The fair, fresh Spiingtide dreads the Sun, Shrinks from the hazy noontide heat, Essays his amorous glance to shun, In scudding clouds and rain and sleet; Yet, half for love, and half in fear, She dares not wholly banish him; She smiles, and then lets fall a tear,
Is joyous, though her days are dim.
. But if no April—then no May: Predestined are the Summer flowers, The wayward storms of Spring are gay, And glad the changing chiding hours ; Sweet are thy soft repelling moods, Fair Love, and dear thy questioning eyes, Kind the cold breath that sears the woods, Precursor of indulgent skies.
My Love is but an April day,
And if no April—then no May. 3.
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