Laughing Rose

If I were gusty April now,

How I would blow at laughing Rose;

I’d make her ribbons slip their knots,

And all her hair come loose.

If I were merry April now,

How I would pelt her cheeks with showers;

I’d make carnations, rich and warm,

Of her vermilion flowers.

Since she will laugh in April’s face,

No matter how he rains or blows—

Then O that I wild April were,

To play with laughing Rose.