The Earth Turns South/I Would Not Die in April

by Clement Richardson Wood

I WOULD NOT DIE IN APRIL

I would not die in April,When grass and violet wake,Nor have your spade disturb themFor my sake;

I prize too much the comfortOf all the pallid shootsTo grub beneath their confidentSlim roots.

Oh rather in the snowtime,—That from the newly deadThe grass may forage boldlyIn my head,

And from my heart the violetMay drink, and flame a blueSweet message from the heart of GodTo you.