The last of April, green thrown lightly to
the near hills, a scarf catching the last sun
and lit improbably, rims each bobble
and guides the weary homeward once again.
It settles under the long waiting world
which holds forth the early blossoms – to May!
tonight the world will turn to spring’s soft arms
in her sweetest embrace, remembering
what winter’s freeze and snow has pushed aside
Tomorrow in the dawn, the bells a-ring,
the feet shall leap and hearts rise up as well
in song they’ll call and answer with gladness.
Wait in the night, watchers of the springtide
wait and watch, with ready song and garland.
Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice: It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved. — William Jennings Bryan
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