Rondeau: Away in April

If I forget the singing flame
That leaps in ardor at a name,
      Or grow to hold as less than dear
      A voice I know upon my ear,
Oh, do not think me much to blame.

The spring is wild with white, the same
White madness as the time he came,
      And I am lonely! Is it queer
            If I forget?

And yet such faithfulness I claim
You'd think the spring this year was tame.
      His face remembered seems more clear:
      The drift of bloom but brings him near.
      May spring and I both die of shame
      If I forget!

---

Previous Poem  Back to the Poems page  Next Poem

---