April Fantasie

The fresh, bright bloom of the daffodils   Makes gold in the garden bed, Gold that is like the sunbeams   Loitering overhead.       Bloom, bloom In the sun and the wind,— April hath a fickle mind. The budding twigs of the sweetbrier   Stir as with hope and bliss Under the sun’s soft glances,   Under the wind’s sly kiss.       Swing, swing In the sun and the wind,— April hath a fickle mind. May, she calls to her little ones,   Her flowers hiding away, “Never put off till to-morrow   What you may do to-day.       Come, come Through the sun and the wind,— April hath a fickle mind.”