Cruel, cruel April

For my friends who are suffering through this on-again off-again spring.

Song

April, April,

Laugh they girlish laughter;

Then, the moment after,

Weep thy girlish tears!

April, that mine ears

Like a lover greetest,

If I tell thee, sweetest,

All my hopes and fears,

April, April,

Laugh thy golden laughter,

But the moment after,

Weep thy golden tears!

--William Watson (1858-1935)

Found while looking for another poem about April in The New Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918 (New Edition), Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. Oxford University Press, New York, 1955 (first published 1900).