APRIL - An altered look about the hills
An altered look about the hills; / A Tyrian light the village fills;
To learn the transport by the pain,
As blind men learn the sun;
To die of thirst, suspecting
That brooks in meadows run;
To stay the homesick, homesick feet
Upon a foreign shore
Haunted by native lands, the while,
And blue, beloved air --
This is the sovereign anguish,
This, the signal woe!
These are the patient laureates
Whose voices, trained below,
Ascend in ceaseless carol,
Inaudible, indeed,
To us, the duller scholars
Of the mysterious bard!
An altered look about the hills; / A Tyrian light the village fills;
Unto my books so good to turn / Far ends of tired days;
Because I could not stop for Death, / He kindly stopped for me;
We cover thee, sweet face. / Not that we tire of thee,