April Rains
The April rains
Are the crying of my soul
For a young love
That never knew
The true fulfillment
Of a ripened age;
And like a woman
Who weeps at an infant’s grave
My heart
Is always mourning
For the love that died before
Its harvest time.
Are the crying of my soul
For a young love
That never knew
The true fulfillment
Of a ripened age;
And like a woman
Who weeps at an infant’s grave
My heart
Is always mourning
For the love that died before
Its harvest time.
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