What though thy voice hath not a trace of sweetness
  It thrills one through and through,
With promises of Joy in all completeness
  What time the skies are blue. 
When robins from the apple-trees are flinging
  Out on the air their silver shower of song,—­
In lilac days, when children run a-singing,
  No single thought shall do thy memory wrong.

  “Winter is over and the spring is coming!”
  Sweet are thy tidings, little page in black—­
  “Winter is over and the spring is coming—­
  The spring is coming back!”

WHEN APRIL COMES!

When April comes with softly shining eyes,
  And daffodils bound in her wind-blown hair,
Oh, she will coax all clouds from out the skies,
And every day will bring some sweet surprise,—­
  The swallows will come swinging through the air
    When April comes!

When April comes with tender smile and tear,
  Dear dandelions will gild the common ways,
And at the break of morning we will hear
The piping of the robins crystal clear—­
  While bobolinks will whistle through the days,
    When April comes!

When April comes, the world so wise and old,
  Will half forget that it is worn and grey;
Winter will seem but as a tale long told—­
Its bitter winds with all its frost and cold
  Will be the by-gone things of yesterday,
    When April comes!

KISMET

Love came to her unsought,
  Love served her many ways,
And patiently Love followed her
  Throughout the nights and days.

Love spent his life for her
  And hid his tears and sighs;
He bartered all his soul for her,
  With tender pleading eyes.

Her scarlet mouth that smiled,
  Mocked lightly at his woe,
And while she would not bid him stay
  She did not bid him go.

But hope within him failed
  Until he pled no more—­
And cold and still he turned his face
  Away from her heart’s door.

* * * * *

Long were the days she watched
  For one who never came;—­
Through sleepless nights her white lips bore
  The burden of a name.

A SONG OF SUMMER DAYS

As pearls slip off a silken string and fall into the sea,
These rounded summer days fall back into eternity.

Into the deep from whence they came; into the mystery—­
At set of sun each one slips back as pearls into the sea.

They are so sweet—­so warm and sweet—­Love fain would hold them fast: 
He weeps when through his finger tips they slip away at last.

AT THE PLAY

Just above the boxes and where the high lights fall
Looketh down a carven face from out the gilded wall.