Explore "My April Lady (Lyrics, Dramatic and Personal)" by Henry Van Dyke on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When down the stair at morning / The sunbeams round her float, / Sweet rivulets of laughter / Are bubbling in her throat; / The gladness of her greeting / Is gold without alloy; / And in the morning sunlight / I think her name is Joy.
When in the evening twilight / The quiet book-room lies, / We read the sad old ballads, / While from her hidden eyes / The tears are falling, falling, / That give her heart relief; / And in the evening twilight, / I think her name is Grief.
My little April lady, / Of sunshine and of showers, / She weaves the old spring magic, / And breaks my heart in flowers! / But when her moods are ended, / She nestles like a dove; / Then, by the pain and rapture, / I know her name is Love.