After the winter rain, 
   Sing, robin! Sing, swallow!
Grasses are in the lane, 
   Buds and flowers will follow.

Woods shall ring, blithe and gay,
   With bird-trill and twitter,
Though the skies weep to-day, 
   And the winds are bitter. 

Though deep call unto deep
   As calls the thunder, 
And white the billows leap
   The tempest under;

Softly the waves shall come
   Up the long, bright beaches, 
With dainty, flowers of foam
   And tenderest speeches …

After the wintry pain, 
   And the long, long sorrow, 
Sing, heart!—for thee again
   Joy comes with the morrow.

Near the end of April

    On the verge of May—

And o my heart, the woods were dusk

    At the close of day.

Half a word was spoken

    Out of half a dream,

And God looked in my soul and saw

    A dawn rise and gleam.

Near the end of April

    Twenty Mays have met,

And half a word and half a dream

    Remember and forget.