The swallows circle, the robins call, 

 The lark's song rises, faints and falls: 

 The peach boughs blush with rosiest bloom 

 Like ghosts, in the twilight, pear-trees loom : 

 The maples glow, and the daffodils 

 Wear the same hue that the west sky fills.- 

 The moon's young crescent, thin and bright, 

 Shines in the blue of the early night. 



And over all, through all, April bears 

 A hope that laughs at Winter's fearss 



