| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Song in Early April | | By Richard Hunt |
| | | THE GRAY clouds weep on the brown grass; | |
| The sun is bright upon one little hill. | |
| The wind is bleak, alas!— | |
| And the song sparrow still. | |
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| A hawk screams from the gray sky, | 5 |
| A frog pipes one small note from the bare marsh. | |
| I saw a sea gull like a ship sail by | |
| And his voice was wild and harsh. | |
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| The hillsides are all streaked with little rills, | |
| I saw a patch of ice beneath a ledge; | 10 |
| A snowbird on a bare twig trills, | |
| And a robin in the hedge. | |
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| I found a pink moth and his wings were numb, | |
| I found some green buds under the dead grass, | |
| I tried to sing a song, but I was dumb: | 15 |
| The wind is bleak—alas! | | | | |
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