quotations about April
Blossom of the almond trees,
April's gift to April's bees.
EDWIN ARNOLD
Almond Blossoms
Oh, hush, my heart, and take thine ease,
For here is April weather!
The daffodils beneath the trees
Are all a-row together.
LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE
April Weather
When April winds
Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush
Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up,
Opened in airs of June her multitude
Of golden chalices to humming birds
And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT
The Fountain
A gush of bird-song, a patter of dew,
A cloud and a rainbow's warning,
Suddenly sunshine and perfect blue--
An April day in the morning.
HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD
April
Again the blackbirds sing; the streams
Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
And tremble in the April showers
The tassels of the maple flowers.
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER
The Singer
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
GEORGE ORWELL
1984
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
Which spongy April at thy best betrims.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
The Tempest
Sweet April showers
Do bring May flowers.
THOMAS TUSSER
Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry
The April winds are magical,
And thrill our tuneful frames;
The garden-walks are passional
To bachelors and dames.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
April
O sweet wild April came over the hills.
He skipped with the winds and he tripped with the rills;
His raimant was all of daffodils.
Sing hi, sing hey, sing ho!
WILLIAM FORCE STEAD
Sweet Wild April
The soft rains of April are over
The ferry across the water to Dover, over
Anybody home now
I am on the phone, oh I'd like to go back
Is it raining back home
I'm so alone
Just got up today
And my thoughts are miles away
With you
A-HA
"Soft Rains of April"
Today has been a day dropped out of June into April.
L.M. MONTGOMERY
Anne of Windy Poplars
Oh Juno smiles when he impregns the clouds
That shed May flow'rs.
JOHN MILTON
Paradise Lost
When bullying April bruised mine eyes
With sleet-bound appetites and crude
Experiments of green, I still was wise
And kissed the blossoming rod.
CECIL DAY-LEWIS
Transitional Poem
Each October I walk into the woods
looking for bones: rabbit skulls,
a grackle spine, the pelvis of a deer
with the blood bleached out. What died
in the lush of roses and mint
shines out from the tangle of twigs
that bind it to the place
of its last leaping. The living lack
that kind of clarity. In late April,
when the water spreads out and out
till everything is lilies and seepage,
there is only the mystery of tracks,
a rustle receding in the many reeds.
And so the bones accumulate
across my windowsill: the flightless
wings and exaggerated grins,
the silent unmoving reminders
of where the glories of April lead.
CHARLES RAFFERTY
Where the Glories of April Lead
One of love's April fools.
WILLIAM CONGREVE
The Old Bachelor
Once more in misted April
The world is growing green,
Along the winding river
The plumey willows lean.
BLISS CARMAN
An April Morning