Shayari Bazar

Song of a Second AprilAPRIL this year, not otherwiseThan April of a year agoIs full of whispers, full of sighs,Dazzling mud and dingy snow;Hepaticas that pleased you soAre here again, and butterflies.There rings a hammering all day,And shingles lie about the doors;From orchards near and far awayThe gray wood-pecker taps and bores,And men are merry at their chores,And children earnest at their play.The larger streams run still and deep;Noisy and swift the small brooks run.Among the mullein stalks the sheepGo up the hillside in the sunPensively; only you are gone,You that alone I cared to keep.