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 vermillion 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. ~ ~ ~ ~ Laughing Rose by William Henry Davies