On an April apple bough
M. Lang
Swing, little bird on the bended bough:
Sing, and swing in the rain;
The buds will burst and the blossoms blow,
Like drift on drift of perfumes snow
Over and over again.
Hark! My heart to the swelling song;
Hush, and ease thy pain;
New love must rise
From the love laid low,
Breath and blossom, gleam and glow,
Over and over again.