In April, when the world is splendored,
when trees and flowers bloom unhindered-
for the danger of frost, has finally past,
and little violets abide with grass-
I vow , my time I will not squander . . .
And April is the time to wander.
I think to traipse, the whole world over,
with hope to find a patch of clover,
or to look for a wild and fragrant vine,
or to spy a redbird in a pine,
implores the heart, to pause and pray,
for the beauty of an April day.
Hence, I promise, not to waste.
a moment in April with rushing and haste.
Instead, I’ll stroll by field and wood,
and see April declare that God is good.