In April

Spring-beauty is a gipsy Who travels by my road, And makes my April pasture The place of her abode.

Dark Trillium in purple, Hepatica in gray, Spread mystery of their coming Through woodlands where they stray.

The Windflowers that gather Along the orchard wall In welcome flutter toward me, Yet never speak at all.

But after all the wilding, I only love the more The golden-hearted Daffies That crowd about my door.