Can't tell you - but you feel it - Nor can you tell me - Saints, with ravished slate and pencil Solve our April Day! Sweeter than a vanished frolic From a vanished green! Swifter than the hoofs of Horsemen Round a Ledge of dream!
Modest, let us walk among it With our faces wailed - As they say polite Archangels Do in meeting God!
Not for me - to prate about it! Not for you - to say To some fashionable Lady "Charming April Day"!
Rather - Heaven's "Peter Parley"! By which Children slow To sublimer Recitation Are prepared to go!
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