To we, weary of April's snow, a bitty-ditty of hope!
The fickle ways of winter’s end and spring’s beginning tests
The hearts of summer-lovers with the art of winter’s best
When March gives way to April, hope dons robes of mist-green
fold
Her dreams are kissed by honeyed breeze, her cheeks with ether
gold
The white that stirred delight and drew us to December’s
hearth
Authors lament; snow’s boreal bestowal stunts rebirth
The mirth of muted minstrels waits within each eager plume
For bud-gates to fling open to the anthems of first bloom
While we, beneath the hierarchy of April’s fickleness
Have no choice but suffer long both tantrum and caress
Buoyed by the assurance ‘there will come a glorious day’
When winter’s cell door reverberates with Spring’s
hip-hip-hooray
© Janet Martin
above words..L.M. Montgomery
