IV 

 APRIL 



4 " Ay, there's easting in it," 

 The white-haired sailor said, 

 As he looked on the sweep of tossing grey 

 And the flying flakes of snowy spray, 

 Wind-borne o'er the great pier-head. 



4 " Ay, there's easting in it," 



Said the herd, who his moor-watch kept ; 

 " The lambs crouch clustering under the Oak, 



And last night a sound like sea-waves broke 



As the wind my turf-walls swept." ' 



APRIL 3. Yes, * there's easting in it/ this 

 dry hard day, under the hard pitiless blue. 

 Day after day, a cold sun shines down 

 upon the parched and dusty world. The 

 sun shines, but there is none of the sove- 

 reign delight of sunshine. The sky is as 

 steel and brass; the grass is white with 

 frost morning after morning, and there has 

 not fallen one April shower to set the sap 



