April
Who loves young April, loves the rain
and loves the sound of her refrain.
She washes winter’s bed of grime
efficiently, and right on time
for all the blossoms pretty May
just loves to flaunt with her bouquet.
So, April does her tidy task
and does it well and doesn’t ask
for blushing roses for her hair –
she knows they’re May’s, who’s much more fair.
She’s chore-girl for the coming queen
and soaks the earth until it’s green,
yet shows no malice nor regret,
although her eyes are always wet.
Damp April sets the stage for spring –
without her, May could never sing.
America, We Love You
America, we love you,
with passion, unconfined,
for principles undaunted
and justice that is blind.
To you, all men are equal,
regardless of their creed,
or how they choose to worship –
this right is guaranteed.
We love you for compassion –
a virtue that’s unique.
We love you or the freedom
that lets all voices speak.
You lift the sad, downtrodden,
by easing their despair,
and with a heart that’s righteous,
you reign beyond compare.
America, we love you –
we shall forevermore –
and sing your praise with honor,
from mountains, plains and shore.