April will come to the quiet town
That I left long ago,
Scattering primroses up and down —
Row upon happy row.
( Oh, little green lane, will she come your way,
To a certain path I know? )
April will pause by cottage and gate
In the wild, sweet evening rain,
Where the garden borders run brown and straight,
To coax them to bloom again.
( Oh, little sad garden that once was gay,
Must she call to you all in vain? )
April will come to cottage and hill,
Laughing her lovers awake.
( Oh, little closed house, so cold and still,
Will she find you for old joy's sake,
And leave one primrose beside your door,
Lest the heart of your garden break? )