Now the Noisy Winds Are Still

Now the noisy winds are still;

April's coming up the hill!

All the spring is in her train,

Led by shining ranks of rain;

Pit, pat, patter, clatter,

Sudden sun, and clatter, patter!—

First the blue, and then the shower;

Bursting bud, and smiling flower;

Brooks set free with tinkling ring;

Birds too full of song to sing;

Crisp old leaves astir with pride,

Where the timid violets hide,—

All things ready with a will,—

April's coming up the hill!