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Poem by Bliss Carman
When April winds arrive And the soft rains are here, Some morning by the roadside These Fairy folk appear. We never see their coming, However sharp our eyes; Each year as if by magic They take us by surprise. Along the ragged woodside And by the green spring-run, Their small white heads are nodding And twinkling in the sun. They crowd across the meadow In innocence and mirth, As if there were no sorrow In all this wondrous earth. So frail, so unregarded, And yet about them clings A sorcery of welcome,Ч The joy of common things. Perhaps their trail of beauty Across the pasture sod In jubilant procession Is where an angel trod.
Bliss Carman's other poems:
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