The First of April
What, Spring! With a day like this?
With air so damp, so cold, so raw;
With snow in sight, and ice
On ponds so slow to thaw?
It snows, it blows, it rains.
What garden can be made?
Yet I sit and wait, perchance,
With seed and hoe and spade.
A robin in the cherry tree
Just sits with drooping wing,
He stares at me and chirps
In plaintive tones for spring.
So with the ground too wet
And with the air so cool,
We know that it's not spring
It's only, only– April Fool.
by Eli Bartoo, published in The Potter Enterprise, 1964
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