April, Come She Will

April, come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain.

May, she will stay
Resting in my arms again.

June, she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night.

July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.

August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold.

September I'll remember:
A love once new has now grown old.