Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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.
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.
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.
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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