The Season of April

April, with its unpredictability, lingers on like a long season of tumultuous change. April is warm and soft one day, then icy cold and hazy the next. Rains pour heavily one day, with blustery winds, while the next day possesses a quietness as if no howling storm occurred the day before.  The earliest green sprigs have emerged from earth’s thawing ground; daffodils wake up to welcome the passage of winter. God set the planet into spinning motion, established its speed and distance from the sun, and the changing of the season sings in time with the whirling of the planet.

I just returned from a quick visit to the southern U.S., and saw the transition of the season while driving back to the upper midwest region, so I have this transition in mind. In the Upper Midwest, April is still finding its spring legs, while in the South, April is already learning how to walk.  In the Midwest, the sky is still visible through mostly bare tree branches, but further south, lacy flowering trees outlined with green fringe obscure the sky.  Most days are sunny in the deep south, but the sunshine is not guaranteed in the much further north. (I wouldn’t be a very good marketing agent for relocation to the Midwest, would I?!)

April is a season of change; a transition time from one extreme to the other. Just as in our lives, there is something new and different; something changing, something transitioning, something growing, something dying; there is always something to remember and something to forget; something to cry about and something to laugh about; something that is buried and something that is resurrected. Spring is hopeful and full of reminders that God is still in charge watching over us; He is the constant of grace and source of hope blanketing this world.

Not only are there signs of spring, but April is also National Poetry Month. For me, though, every day is poetry day, and while I’m not sure about the true significance and impact of having its own designated month, it’s nice to see poetry promoted here and there. :)

So of course, I went searching for some poems about April. Hope you enjoy them.


By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Eyes tell, tell me, what you tell me,
telling something all too sweet,
making music out of beauty,
with a question hidden deep.

Still I think I know your meaning,
there behind your pupils’ brightness,
love and truth are your heart’s lightness,
that, instead of its own gleaming,

would so truly like to greet,
in a world of dullness, blindness,
one true look of human kindness,
where two kindred spirits meet.


“The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day.
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud come over the sunlit arch,
And wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.”

– Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time, 1926


My April Lady
By Henry Van Dyke

When down the stair at morning
The sunbeams round her float,
Sweet rivulets of laughter
Are bubbling in her throat;
The gladness of her greeting
Is gold without alloy;
And in the morning sunlight
I think her name is Joy.

When in the evening twilight
The quiet book-room lies,
We read the sad old ballads,
While from her hidden eyes
The tears are falling, falling,
That give her heart relief;
And in the evening twilight,
I think her name is Grief.

My little April lady,
Of sunshine and of showers,
She weaves the old spring magic,
And breaks my heart in flowers!
But when her moods are ended,
She nestles like a dove;
Then, by the pain and rapture,
I know her name is Love.



I Love You
By Sara Teasdale

When April bends above me
And finds me fast asleep
Dust need not keep the secret
A live heart died to keep.

When April tells the thrushes,
The meadow-larks will know,
And pipe the three words lightly
To all the winds that blow.

Above his roof the swallows,
In notes like far-blown rain,
Will tell the little sparrow
Beside his window-pane.

O sparrow, little sparrow,
When I am fast asleep,
Then tell my love the secret
That I have died to keep.


I’ve posted this one before, but I like it, so here it is again:

Over the Land is April
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Over the land is April,
Over my heart a rose;
Over the high, brown mountain
The sound of singing goes.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain,
Love, do you hear me sing?

By highway, love, and byway
The snows succeed the rose.
Over the high, brown mountain
The wind of winter blows.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain
I sound the song of spring,
I throw the flowers of spring.
Do you hear the song of spring?
Hear you the songs of spring?



I’ve also posted some quotes by Mary Oliver, which are all wonderful and worth repeating, and here is one of those. It has nothing to do with April, but upon thinking about it, I think it fits.


By Mary Oliver

“There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.
Like, telling someone you love them.
Or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?
You’re not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life,
even, possibly, your own.”




because of the hope laid up for you in heaven…. – Colossians 1:5


As surely as the sun rises,
    he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
    like the spring rains that water the earth. – Hosea 6:3


then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains, so that you may gather in your grain, new wine and olive oil. – Deuteronomy 11:14


Let my teaching fall like rain
    and my words descend like dew,
like showers on new grass,
    like abundant rain on tender plants. – Deuteronomy 32:2


28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. – Matthew 6:28-29




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