Breezes strongly rushing, when the North--West stirs,
 Prophesying Summer to the shaken firs;
 Blowing brows of forest, where soft airs are free,
 Crowned with heavenly glimpses of the shining sea;
 Buds and breaking blossoms, that sunny April yields;
 Ferns and fairy grasses, the children of the fields;
 In the fragrant hedges' hollow brambled gloom
 Pure primroses paling into perfect bloom;
 Round the elms rough stature, climbing dark and high,
 Ivy--fringes trembling against a golden sky;
 Woods and windy ridges darkening in the glow;
 The rosy sunset bathing all the vale below;
 Violet banks forsaken in the fading light;
 Starry sadness filling the quiet eyes of night;
 Dew on all things drooping for the summer rains;
 Dewy daisies folding in the lonely lanes.
An April Day
written byRobert Laurence Binyon
© Robert Laurence Binyon





