Who would fear death when there is April?—
Like a flame, like a song—
To heal all who have lived with yearning
Year-through, life-long.
When there is April with fulfilment
For longing and for pain,
For every reaching hand that beauty
Has lured in vain.
Who would shrink from the earth when April
With slim rain hands shall reach
Through the doors of dark, and call them
Who love her speech.