Lo! The weather works in an inimical way,
Oh it's April, the eldest son of summer;
The aged leaves leap lonely in the dust,
And the wind winds and gets much louder.
The spider crawls and looks for the shelter,
The squirrel sneaks off the sloppy sprig,
The child slips and slides in the  quaggy ground;
Oh everything is draggled and the dread is big.
Of a calm evening I dream by the pool,
As it shakes and shivers and don't sleep,
The sky is no more beautifully bright
After it hosted dark clouds and they did weep.
O April be temperate in your behaviour,
And ruminate not to ruin our and their repose
That their cousins have long sewn together;
Tranquility is the soul of happiness not woes.