For works with similar titles, see April.

APRIL.

Tell me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking;
For ye're saying something sweet,
Fit the ravished ear to greet,
Eloquently, softly speaking.

Yet I see now why ye're roving;
For behind those eyes so bright,
To itself abandoned quite,
Lies a bosom, truthful, loving,—

One that it must fill with pleasure
'Mongst so many, dull and blind,
One true look at length to find,
That its worth can rightly treasure.

Whilst I'm lost in studying ever
To explain these ciphers duly,—
To unravel my books truly
In return be your endeavour!