letra de an april love by alfred austin - richard mitchley
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nay, be not june, nor yet december, dear
but april always, as i find thee now:
a constant freshness unto me be thou
and not the ripeness that must soon be sere
why should i be time’s dupe, and wish more near
the sobering harvest of thy vernal vow?
i am content, so still across thy brow
returning smile chase transitory tear
then scatter thy april heart in sunny showers;
i crave nor summer drouth nor winter sleet:
as spring be fickle, so thou be as sweet;
with half—kept promise tantalise the hours;
and let love’s frolic hands and woodland feet
fill high the lap of life with wilding flowers
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