Song Of A Second April Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Song Of A Second April

Rating: 3.0


April this year, not otherwise
Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day,
And shingles lie about the doors;
In orchards near and far away
The grey wood-pecker taps and bores;
The men are merry at their chores,
And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep,
Noisy and swift the small brooks run
Among the mullein stalks the sheep
Go up the hillside in the sun,
Pensively,—only you are gone,
You that alone I cared to keep.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Colleen Courtney 17 May 2014

A nice write on how drastically things may change in the space of a year.

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Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Rockland / Maine / United States
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