And window-sills are warm in the sun,

And grannies in white mufflers meet

Friends at the turn of every street,

When at the doctor's door you dread

Upon his spaniel's ears to tread

Who by the scraper lays to doze

His ginger lovelocks and his nose,

When the oldest alms-folk rise and peer

Out of their painted doors, to hear

The bellman's speech ere he be gone—

Then April comes to Abingdon.