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Poem by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman


The first of April! yet November's haze
Hangs on the wood, and blurs the hill's blue tip:
The light of noon rests wanly on the strip
Of sandy road, recalling leaf-laid ways,
Shades stilled in death, and tender twillight days
Ere Winter lifts the wind-trump to his lip.
No moss is shyly seen a tuft to raise,
Nor under grass a gold-eyed flower to dip;
Nor sound is breathed, but haply the south west
Faint rippling in the brushes of the pine,
Or of the shrunken leaf dry-fluttering.
Compact the village lies, a whitened line
Gathered in smoke. What holds this brooding rest?
Is it dead Autumn, or the dreaming Spring?

Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

Frederick Goddard Tuckerman's other poems:
  1. First Series. 7. Dank fens of cedar, hemlock branches gray
  2. First Series. 26. For Nature daily through her grand design
  3. First Series. 6. Not sometimes, but to him that heeds the whole
  4. First Series. 27. So to the mind long brooding but on it
  5. Third Series. 10. Sometimes I walk where the deep water dips

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Edward Thomas April ("The sweetest thing, I thought")
  • Charlotte Smith April ("GREEN o'er the copses spring's soft hues are spreading")
  • William Watson April ("APRIL, April")
  • Alice Cary April ("THE wild and windy March once more")
  • Archibald Lampman April ("Pale season, watcher in unvexed suspense")
  • John Payne April ("SWEET April, with thy mingling tears and smiles")
  • John Whittier April ("'T is the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird")
  • Sara Teasdale April ("THE roofs are shining from the rain")

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