April in Cancer

Young April laughs to see her Crab recede, Then wets with peevish tears the glistering mead; Soon, cheer’d again, on high her bow she bends; On the moist grass one lucid horn descends. With joy as wayward, she salutes the year, Placing a crystal crown upon her hair; With flowers and watry sun-beams wreathes it round, Then strikes it soil’d and darken’d, to the ground. Patient our timid Traveller deplores The wild caprice of April’s veering hours; Now, ’mid soft gales, throws back her wintry vest, Now, in the rude storm, folds it o’er her breast; Turns the soft eye of Hope on lively May, Serene of smile, nor smiling to betray.