  A laughter of wind and a leaping of cloud, And April, oh, out under the blue! The brook is awake and the blackbird loud In the dew! But how does the robin high in the beech, Beside the wood with its shake and toss, Know it—the frenzy of bluets to reach Thro' the moss! And where did the lark ever learn his speech? Up wildly sweet he's over the mead! Is more than the rapture of earth can teach In its creed? I never shall know—I never shall care! 'Tis, oh, enough to live and to love! To laugh and warble and dream and dare Are to prove! |
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