And still the mad magnificent herald Springassembles beauty from forgetfulnesswith the wild trump of April:witcheryof sound and odour drives the wingless thingman forth in the bright air...
e.e. cummings (1894 - 1962)
Source: E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962, Pages: 4 (Epithalamion)
Contributed by: Tsuya
If only we could touchthe things of this worldat their center, if we could only heartiny leaves of birchstruggling toward April,then we would know.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide.
A.E. Housman (1859 - 1936)
Source: A Shropshire Lad, 1896, no. 2, st. I
Contributed by: Zaady
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