Poems (Hinchman)/When April pipes on every hill
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
XIVAPRIL
When April pipes on every hill
The lays that cleave the heart of Spring,
Making the woods and meadows ring
With music Winter's frown did still,
Fair blossoms nod o'er every rill
And cast their brown leaves' covering,
When April pipes on every hill.
The lays that cleave the heart of Spring,
Making the woods and meadows ring
With music Winter's frown did still,
Fair blossoms nod o'er every rill
And cast their brown leaves' covering,
When April pipes on every hill.
And now each heart doth feel the thrill
The morning's lovely light doth bring:
At the door of Dreams the sweet birds' trill
Calls all to leave their slumbering;
Till our feet move, and our lips sing
The lays that cleave the heart of Spring,
When April pipes on every hill.
The morning's lovely light doth bring:
At the door of Dreams the sweet birds' trill
Calls all to leave their slumbering;
Till our feet move, and our lips sing
The lays that cleave the heart of Spring,
When April pipes on every hill.