April in Town

Straight from the east the wind blows sharp with rain,
That just now drove its wild ranks down the street,
And westward rushed into the sunset sweet.
Spouts brawl, boughs drip and cease and drip again,
Bricks gleam; keen saffron glows each window-pane,
And every pool beneath the passing feet.
Innumerable odors fine and fleet
Are blown this way from blossoming lawn and lane.
Wet roofs show black against a tender sky;
The almond bushes in the lean-fenced square,
Beaten to the walks, show all their draggled white.
A troop of laborers comes slowly by;
One bears a daffodil, and seems to bear
A new-lit candle through the fading light.

Lizette Woodworth Reese was a late 19th century Baltimore poet and teacher who wrote extensively about the seasons.  It would seem from this verse that rain (and daffodils) are as common in April in the eastern USA, as here.

The holly bush a sober lump of green

John Clare’s Winter Walk offers us the hope of more than the passing of dark days.  It reminds us that we’re not alone in wishing winter gone, and that we have more in common than we like to think with those creatures with whom we share the Earth.

The holly bush a sober lump of green
Shines through the leafless shrubs all brown & grey
& smiles at winter be it e’er so keen
With all the leafy luxury of may
& o it is delicious when the day
In winters loaded garment keenly blows
& turns her back on sudden falling snows
To go where gravel pathways creep between
Arches of ever green that scarce let through
A single feather of the driving snow
& in the bitterest day that ever blew
The walk will find some places still & warm
Where dead leaves rustle sweet & give alarm
To little birds that flirt & start away