Authors:
  • How many million Aprils came
    before I ever knew
    how white a cherry bough could be,
    a bed of squills, how blue

    And many a dancing April
    when life is done with me,
    will lift the blue flame of the flower
    and the white flame of the tree

    Oh burn me with your beauty then,
    oh hurt me tree and flower,
    lest in the end death try to take
    even this glistening hour...