Mathilde Blind Poems
|161.||Your Looks Have Touched My Soul||1/3/2003|
|162.||Dost Thou Remember Ever||1/3/2003|
|163.||A Child's Fancy||1/3/2003|
|164.||Yea, The Roses Are Still On Fire||1/3/2003|
|165.||If You But Knew||4/20/2010|
|168.||You Make The Sunshine Of My Heart||1/3/2003|
|169.||We Met As Strangers||1/3/2003|
|170.||A Winter Landscape||1/3/2003|
|171.||Snow Or Snowdrops?||1/3/2003|
|173.||Ah, If You Knew||1/3/2003|
|175.||A White Night||4/20/2010|
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;
And in grey shaw and woodland bowers
The cuckoo through the April rain
Calls once again.
The April sun, the April sun,
Glints through the rain in fitful splendour,
And in grey shaw and woodland dun
The little leaves spring forth and tender
Their infant hands, yet weak and slender,
For warmth towards the April sun,
One after one.
And between shower and shine hath birth
What a twitter! what a tumult! what a whirr of wheeling wings!
Birds of Passage hear the message which the Equinoctial brings.
Birds of Passage hear the message and beneath the flying clouds,
Mid the falling leaves of autumn, congregate in clamorous crowds.
Shall they venture on the voyage? are the nestlings fledged for flight;
Fit to face the fluctuant storm-winds and the elemental night?