Today I’m bringing you a poem from Blyton’s Poetry Book.
I hope you like it.
Oh, April is a fairy child, a fairy child is she,
As wayward as the little winds a-blowing,
For will she smile or will she cry, for all the world to see,
There’s never, oh, there’s never any knowing!
So pelt her with apple-blossom, scatter her with daises,
Cool her feet with pearly drops of dew,
Call upon the little birds to sing her pretty praises,
And bid the sky bedeck itself in blue!
Oh, Cuckoo, are you coming now, for April wants to hear
Your pretty double-note among the trees?
You mustn’t disappoint her, or she’ll cry a little tear,
And send it silver-splashing on the breeze.
She’ll weep until a rainbow about the sky is glowing,
And then she’ll laugh and gaily dance away,
And by the springing bluebells you’ll know the way she’s going,
To see the cuckoo, singing loud and gay!
Its rather a good metaphor for spring and the weather we have in April isn’t it? What do you think of this April poem? I wish I could hear a cuckoo, I don’t think I’ve heard one before! I also wish the weather was a little kinder, but it does put me in mind of a toddler having a tantrum and not knowing what it wants!
I also quite enjoy the idea of April dancing through the land leaving bluebells in her wake. They are one of my favourite flowers by far. I do love bluebells. My gran used to tell me that if you picked one, a pixie would follow you home and cause havoc, so you mustn’t pick them. I never have; however now I suspect it had more to do with them being protected than any magical creature. I may be wrong, its not impossible!