Volume 9 — When?

Come, gentle April showers, And water my May flowers. The violet— Blue, white, and yellow streaked with jet— Thickly in my bed are set; Gay daffodillies, Tulips and St. Joseph's lilies; Bethlehem's star, Gleaming through its leaves afar; Merry crocuses, which quaff Sunshine till they fairly laugh; And that fragrant one so pale, Meekest lily of the vale, All are keeping whist, afraid Of this late snow o'er them laid. Come, then, gentle April showers, And coax out my pretty flowers. I am tired of wintry days, Have no longer heart to praise Icicles and banks of snow. When will dandelions blow, And meadow-sweet, And cowslips, dipping their cool feet In little rills Gushing from the mossy hills? I am weary of this weather. Vernal breezes, hasten hither, Bringing in your dappled train, Tearful sunshine, smiling rain, And, to coax out all my flowers, Fall, fall gently, April showers.