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?