O April showers! softly fall.
O April airs! caress the flowers.
O April sun! smile down on all
This land of ours.

Wild birds are wooing now.  Their words
Are in a language strange to me.
Could I translate love-songs of birds
How blest I’d be!

Now is the time when farmers sow;
They set the seeds beneath the sod –
Strong in their trust that crops will grow –
Their trust in God.

Wind-driven cloud-ships sail above;
Below their shadows swiftly pass.
Over the tillage fields they move,
Over the grass.

And at their passing as I gaze
I think how like this life of ours
Is April with its changeful days
Of sun and showers!

O April with its smiles and tears!
Ah April with its sun and rain!
O joys and sorrows of the years –
Pleasure and pain.

Michael Mullin
‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.