Chaucer April

When April with its sweet showers has pierced
The drought of March right to the root, and bathed
Each vein of plant in such moisture
That it brings forth the flower;
When the West Wind also with its gentle breath
Has breathed life into every wood and field,
And the young sun has run half its course in Aries,
And small birds make melody,
Those that sleep all night with open eyes—
So Nature stirs them in their hearts—
Then people long to go on pilgrimages...