THE wild bird carolled all the April night,
Among the leafing limes, as who should say,
'Lovers, have heed; here cometh in your May,
When you shall walk in woods and heart's delight
Have in the fresh-flowered fields and spring's sweet sight!'
And truly, with the breaking of the day,
Came the glad month and all the world was gay
With lilac-breath and blossoms red and white.
Oh moon of love, how shall the snowtide do
To wind the world again with winter-death,
Whilst in our hearts the thought of thee is blent
With memories more sweet than honey-dew
Of all thy nights and days of ravishment,
Thy birds, thy cowslips, and thy hawthorn's breath?