Best April Poems

Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
...

It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
...

Five pounds fifty in change, exactly,
a library card on its date of expiry.

A postcard stamped,
...

In April, in April,
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.
...

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in 'Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
...

Until tonight they were separate specialties,
different stories, the best of their own worst.
Riding my warm cabin home, I remember Betsy's
laughter; she laughed as you did, Rose, at the first
...

In a week or ten days
the snow and ice
will melt from Cemetery Road.
...

Fireflies die
Stars wink out of existence
Butterflies fall from the sky
Rivers take the path of least resistance
...

Let us be thankful, Lord, for little things -
The song of birds, the rapture of the rose;
Cloud-dappled skies, the laugh of limpid springs,
Drowned sunbeams and the perfume April blows;
...

A middle-northern March, now as always--
gusts from the South broken against cold winds--
but from under, as if a slow hand lifted a tide,
it moves--not into April--into a second March,
...

Ode To A Poet
....................

Hey poet!
...

Calmly we walk through this April's day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
...

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
...

O beautiful wine-bearer, bring forth the cup and put it to my lips
Path of love seemed easy at first, what came was many hardships.
With its perfume, the morning breeze unlocks those beautiful locks
The curl of those dark ringlets, many hearts to shreds strips.
...

Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,
Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,
But of a love turned ashes and the breath
Gone out of beauty; never again will grow
...

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.
...

The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
...

When Watkin shifts the burden of his cares
And all that irked him in his bound employ,
Once more become a vagrom-hearted boy,
He moves to roundelays and jocund airs;
...

April, and the last of the plum blossoms
scatters on the black grass
before dawn. The sycamore, the lime,
the struck pine inhale
...

No, no! Go from me. I have left her lately.
I will not spoil my sheath with lesser brightness,
For my surrounding air hath a new lightness;
Slight are her arms, yet they have bound me straitly
...

Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
...

When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.
...

When April scatters charms of primrose gold
Among the copper leaves in thickets old,
And singing skylarks from the meadows rise,
To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;
...

FLOWER god, god of the spring, beautiful, bountiful,
Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles,
Here I wander in April
Cold, grey-headed; and still to my
...

You took my empty dreams
And filled them every one
With tenderness and nobleness,
April and the sun.
...

Now leave the check-reins slack,
The seed is flying far today -
The seed like stars against the black
Eternity of April clay.
...

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey'd,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold,
...

No days such honored days as these! While yet
Fair Aphrodite reigned, men seeking wide
For some fair thing which should forever bide
On earth, her beauteous memory to set
...

What is this drink but
The April sun, squeezed
Like an orange in
My glass? I sip the
...

When Shakespeare came to London
He met no shouting throngs;
He carried in his knapsack
A scroll of quiet songs.
...

They laid their hands upon my head,
They stroked my cheek and brow;
And time could heal a hurt, they said,
And time could dim a vow.
...

It seems wrong that out of this bird,
Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Places about it, there yet should come
Such rich music, as though the notes'
...

927

Absent Place—an April Day—
Daffodils a-blow
...

The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
But not to me.
...

Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart;
Keep your pretty words serene;
Never murmur what you mean.
...

The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
...

You'll love me yet!—and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry
From seeds of April's sowing.
...

Willow in your April gown
Delicate and gleaming,
Do you mind in years gone by
All my dreaming?
...

You wrote your Yiddish signature in rain.
I could not match it in a thousand years.
Old words are classic to my memory.
Because of you, my feet have wings this day.
...

I shall come back without fanfaronade
Of wailing wind and graveyard panoply;
But, trembling, slip from cool Eternity-
A mild and most bewildered little shade.
...

When April bends above me
And finds me fast asleep
Dust need not keep the secret
A live heart died to keep.
...

April, April,
Laugh thy girlish laughter;
Then, the moment after,
Weep thy girlish tears!
...

God made my mother on an April day,
From sorrow and the mist along the sea,
Lost birds' and wanderers' songs and ocean spray,
And the moon loved her wandering jealously.
...

Have you not heard his silent steps?
He comes, comes, ever comes.

Every moment and every age,
...

See, as the prettiest graves will do in time,
Our poet's wants the freshness of its prime;
Spite of the sexton's browsing horse, the sods
Have struggled through its binding osier rods;
...

My restless blood now lies a-quiver,
Knowing that always, exquisitely,
This April twilight on the river
Stirs anguish in the heart of me.
...

How many million Aprils came
   Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
   A bed of squills, how blue.
...

Too green the springing April grass,
Too blue the silver-speckled sky,
For me to linger here, alas,
While happy winds go laughing by,
...

When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from last-year's leaves below.
...

~ Ich bin ein Künstler [Fusion Poetry] ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
April 18,2010
...

Life is about chance
Life is about choice
What if I’m your chance
But you’re not my choice?
...

Puzzling dialogues grow facile,
April is a month of dates,
The cherry-plum blossoms in April,
And for the love it happily waits.
...

It is cold. The white moon
is up among her scattered stars--
like the bare thighs of
the Police Sergeant's wife--among
...

If I were gusty April now,
How I would blow at laughing Rose;
I'd make her ribbons slip their knots,
And all her hair come loose.
...

Laughs the happy April morn
Thro' my grimy, little window,
And a shaft of sunshine pushes
Thro' the shadows in the square.
...

In January everything freezes.
We have two children. Both are she'ses.
This is our January rule:
One girl in bed, and one in school.
...

~ LolololololoL! ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
April 27,2010.
...

She came with April blooms and showers;
We count her little life by flowers.
As buds the rose upon her cheek,
We choose a flower for every week.
...

~ Yum-Yum Zero n’ Nil ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
April 14,2010
...

They tell me on the morrow I must leave
This winter eyrie for a southern flight
And truth to tell I tremble with delight
At thought of such unheralded reprieve.
...

Here was a man who watched the river flow
Past the huge town, one gray November day.
Round him in narrow high-piled streets at play
The boys made merry as they saw him go,
...

Inviting the influence of a young lady upon the opening year

You wear the morning like your dress
And are with mastery crown’d;
...

I sat down to write
a romantic poem
confessing I love you.
However, I guess I’m not
...

The wind is tossing the lilacs,
The new leaves laugh in the sun,
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
But for me the spring is done.
...

It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
...

So is it not with me as with that muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven it self for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,
...

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
The forest-field of Shiloh --
...

The April rain, the April rain,
Comes slanting down in fitful showers,
Then from the furrow shoots the grain,
And banks are fledged with nestling flowers;
...

Is it possible?
There is anyone without someone?

Anyone can read
...

April this year, not otherwise
Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
...

I

Because the night was falling warm and still
Upon a golden day at April’s end,
...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Streams of apologies
Runs through my heart
The tears of regret
...

~ Lo: Gotten Divine ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
April 3,2010
...

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.
...

It was April when you came
The first time to me,
And my first look in your eyes
Was like my first look at the sea.
...

The path by which we twain did go,
Which led by tracts that pleased us well,
Thro' four sweet years arose and fell,
From flower to flower, from snow to snow:
...

Lady of rich allure,
Queen of the spring's embrace,
Your arms are long like boughs of ash,
Mid laugh-broken streams, spirit of rain unsure,
...

APRIL, April,
Laugh thy girlish laughter;
Then, the moment after,
Weep thy girlish tears!
...

The birds against the April wind
Flew northward, singing as they flew;
They sang, "The land we leave behind
Has swords for corn-blades, blood for dew."
...

~ Mathématiques Ainsi Parlait ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
April 8,2010
...

I had you at the height of your poem.
Green thundered in the silence of itself.
I think our moment had its perfect storm,
Though it existed in a shadow tune.
...

April dusk
It is tragic to be a poet now
And not a lover
Paradised under the mutest bough.
...

There's a wind blowing
Cold through the corridors,
A ghost-wind,
The flapping of defeated wings,
...

Ready for a kiss did sun rise,
gleaming, shimmering in the April sky,
had set to bloom bouquets of love,
a rose among them caught my eye...
...

I am free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn,
Swift and intent, asking no joy from another,
Glad to forget all of the passion of April
Ere it was love-free.
...

A Conversation Poem, April, 1798

No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
...

A bouquet of flowers
An expensive gift
A lavish dinner
Was there really a need for all this?
...

Is it, then, regret for buried time
That keenlier in sweet April wakes,
And meets the year, and gives and takes
The colours of the crescent prime?
...

A nice interpretation can be done,
Getting breeze and fragrance,
Softness attracts attention more,
Light beautifies every petal.
...

Now fades the last long streak of snow,
Now burgeons every maze of quick
About the flowering squares, and thick
By ashen roots the violets blow.
...

my father in law is at the end of his life
his name is George and I don't want him to go

but we all leave
...

A vague pearl, a wan pearl
You showed me once; I peered through far-gone winters
Until my mind was fog-bound in that gem.
...

844

Spring is the Period
Express from God.
...

(Spring begins in southern England on the 14th April, on which date the Old Woman lets the Cuckoo out of her basket at Heathfield Fair -- locally known as Heffle Cuckoo Fair.)


Tell it to the locked-up trees,
...

We shall dance the night away,
no matter what people say.
Secret places we have found,
in your arms I’m bound.
...

In a crowded lunch, a wireless chat took place
From soil to sky with a cozy crystal-soul.

A long emotional table
...

I went out on an April morning
All alone, for my heart was high,
I was a child of the shining meadow,
I was a sister of the sky.
...

After the last red sunset glimmer,
Black on the line of a low hill rise,
Formed into moving shadows, I saw
A plowboy and two horses lined against the gray,
...

Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793.


Long wintry months are past; the Moon that now
...

It's the 28th of April,
And the 29th comes soon.
The 27th was a Friday that passed,
In a year that speeds...
...