Come walk a mile with me —‘ Tis April weather;
A voice like Spring is calling: Let us go
Where violets are blooming on the heather,
And song-birds bend the branches to and fro;
For everywhere the very ground is springing,
And everywhere the grass is getting green —
How can I now — how can I keep from singing
When all the world is like a fairy scene!
The buds in all the trees, are ripe for bursting,
And fleecy catkins flutter everywhere,
And every little flower seems a-thirsting
For something sweet and beautiful and fair.
But look!— to Westward — see!— an April shower
Sudden has gathered, darkening the sun,
Yet wait!— beside me lifts a gentle flower,
That lights my pathway, blossoming alone;
And hark!— O hark, the meadow-lark is singing,
Greeting the storm from yon tall maple tree,
While, like a herald in its homeward winging,
Wheels a lone flicker o'er the darkening lea.