"WHANNE THAT APRIL WITH HIS SHOURES SOTE>>>"

The droughts of MArch hath pierced to the rote,
and bathed every vein in swiche licour...'

Memories of poems from junior (and senior) high school.

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight...

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So live that when thy summons comes to join that mysterious caravan..

I would say April is the cruelest month, but I never understood T.S. Eliot's "Wasteland."

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My favorite lines from Frost's "Two Tramps at Mud-Time"

Quote:

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You're one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you're two months back in the middle of March

The metre and rhyme patterns still impress me .Besides that, its exactly the time when the scudding clouds can change a day from winter to warm spring

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