Always I knew it could not last
(Gathering clouds, and the snowflakes flying);
Now it is part of the golden past
(Darkening skies, and the night-wind sighing).
It is but cowardice to pretend.
Cover with ashes our love’s cold crater;
Always I knew that it had to end,
Sooner or later.
Always I knew it would come like this
(Pattering rain and the grasses springing);
Sweeter to you is a new love’s kiss
(Flickering sunshine, and the young birds singing).
Gone are the raptures that once we knew,
Now you are finding a new joy greater–
Well, I’ll be doing the same thing, too,
Sooner or later.

In April, in April,
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.
His eyes were hard as porphyry
With looking on cruel lands;
His voice went slipping over me
Like terrible silver hands.
Together we trod the secret lane
And walked the muttering town;
I wore my heart like a wet, red stain
On the breast of a velvet gown.
In April, in April,
My love went whistling by,
And I stumbled here to my high hill
Along the way of a lie.
Now what should I do in this place
But sit and count the chimes,
And splash cold water on my face,
And spoil a page with rhymes?