Snow in April

Over the boughs that the wind has shaken, Over the sands that are rippled with rain, Over the banks where the buds awaken Cold cloud shadows are spreading again. All the musical world is still, When sharp and sudden, a sparrow calls, And down on the grass where the violets shiver, Through the spruce on the height of the hill, Down on the breadths of the shining river The faint snow falls.

Last weak word of a lord that passes— Why should the burgeoning woods be mute? Spring is abroad in the spiring grasses Life is awake in the robin's flute. But high in the spruce a wind is wailing, And the birds in silence arise and go. Is it that winter is still too near For the heart of the world to cast out fear, When over the sky the rack comes sailing And suddenly falls the snow?