Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1921 — Foreboding

How shall I keep April
When my songs are done—
How can I be silent
And still feel the sun?

I, who dreaded silence,
I, who April-long
Kept my heart from breaking
With the cry of song.

How can I hold sunlight
In my hands, like gold,
And bear the pain of silence
When my songs are old?

The Yale Review.mw-parser-output .wst-floatright{float:right;text-indent:0}Hazel Hall