Monday, 17 May 2010

Poem - Sara Teasdale - Aug 1884 - 1933

April

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 back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree--
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.