102
poems.
THE APRIL SHOWER.
See, how the raindrops, fast and thick, are falling at our feet,
And clouds of sorrow overcast the brows of all we meet.
They hurry to and fro to seek a friendly shelter nigh;
As on they haste no gentle shocks salute the passer by.
And clouds of sorrow overcast the brows of all we meet.
They hurry to and fro to seek a friendly shelter nigh;
As on they haste no gentle shocks salute the passer by.
A fair young bride is drawing nigh, dressed in the purest white,
Alas! alas! her wedding gear is in a hapless plight:
The satin shoes which deck her feet, as on she wends her way,
Are not so very meet, I ween, to suit an April day.
Alas! alas! her wedding gear is in a hapless plight:
The satin shoes which deck her feet, as on she wends her way,
Are not so very meet, I ween, to suit an April day.
Here comes a gay and dashing belle; she shares the common fate:
Too well her sullied garments speak the horrors of her state.
She sees no gallant lover now, to soothe her troubles nigh;
And o'er her brow pass darker clouds, than o'er yon murky sky.
Too well her sullied garments speak the horrors of her state.
She sees no gallant lover now, to soothe her troubles nigh;
And o'er her brow pass darker clouds, than o'er yon murky sky.
Look upon yonder ancient maid, with slow and stately air;
She little thought when out she came, this woful fate to share.
That dress had not beheld the light of day for many a year;
But, as the weather promised well, she doffed her daily gear.
She little thought when out she came, this woful fate to share.
That dress had not beheld the light of day for many a year;
But, as the weather promised well, she doffed her daily gear.
