‘Tis April again…with snow on the ground, and the birds sing low at the sill. ‘Tis April…the air is blue black and there’s ice at the top of the hill.
But…’tis April once more and the chill at the door will be gone by the end of this day. For the moon has turned over and the yard breathes of clover, the daisies are soon on their way…
April dawns…March, sir…go away! Time for blossoms now to play. Rain, rain…wash the clay…salt and grit and winter’s day. Earth, earth…grow and bend and lead us on toward sunshine’s end…our friend!
690 Saint Paul 