The wild sweet rain of April spills
On golden - throated daffodils,
On garden wall and new green bough,
On earth fresh - turned before the plough.
It scrubs the pansy's small shy face
And shines each blade of grass in place
To leave the springtime world aglow,
And lift my heart to walk tiptoe.
The roofs are shining from the rain
The sparrows twitter as they fly
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the backyards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree--
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.