April

Original Text: 

Wilfrid Thorley, Fleurs de Lys: A Book of French Poetry Freely Translated into English Verse. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1920. . Internet Archive.

1April, pryde of all the yeare
2When appeare
3    Leaves, and sap in fleecy bud
4Gently stirs with hope to yield
5Fruit fulfilled
6    From the younglynges of the wood;
7April, pryde of meadowe-sheene
8Gold and greene.
9    She whose lavish whim doth shed
10Hues and flowers a thousand-fold
11On the moulde
12    In her glory garmented;
13April, pryde of wyndes that sighe
14Lightly bye,
15    In whose fannynge her slim thread
16Under boughs a snare doth weave
17To bereave
18    Flora of her maidenhead;
19April, thy soft hande alone
20Slips the zone
21    Laying Nature's bosom bare,
22Stored with odours and with flowers
23That in showers
24    Sweeten all the earth and aire:
25April, pryde and pomp of Sprynge
26Flourishynge
27    On my Ladye's locks that meet
28O'er her browes and on her bosom
29Brimmed with blossom
30    Thousand-fold and full of sweet;
31April, on thy smilynge face
32Love's own grace,
33    Lure and rapture of sweet breath;
34April, scent of Gods enshrined
35On the wynde
36    Sheddynge odour far beneath;
37'Tis thy gentle summonynge
38That doth brynge
39    Back again the truant swallowes
40That in Winter fled afar, --
41They that are
42    Heralds to the Sprynge that followes.
43Thorny briar and thorny boughe
44Blossom nowe;
45    Lilies, pinks, and roses red,
46That the sunny dayes do quicken
47Throng and thicken
48    In their lovely robes outspread;
49And the nightyngale doth sweet
50Songs repeat;
51    In the shade he warbles long,
52Breaks the lilt and links agayn:
53The sweet chayne
54    Of his never-endynge song.
55Love, when thou art haply come
56No more numb,
57    Breathes agayne with gentle breath,
58And awakes the smoulderynge fire
59Of desire
60    That chill Winter smothereth.
61In this weather fresh and sunny
62Bees mayke honey,
63    Swarmynge all the sweets to sup;
64Each from flow'r to fiower dallies
65Deep in chalice
66    There to drink its odour up.
67Maye perchance hath fresher wynde.
68Softer rind
69    On her fruits, and dews that bear
70Manna and the sweet that thryves
71In the hives
72    Fostered by her gracious aire;
73Yet my song I give to her
74That doth bear
75    Her faire name that founde her home
76On the wavy sea that broke,
77And awoke
78    Into lyfe amid the foam.
RPO poem Editors: 
Ian Lancashire
Data entry: Sharine Leung
RPO Edition: 
2012