If I were gusty April now, 
How I would blow at laughing Rose; 
I'd make her ribbons slip their knots, 
And all her hair come loose.

If I were merry April now, 
How I would pelt her cheeks with showers; 
I'd make carnations, rich and warm, 
Of her vermillion flowers.

Since she will laugh in April's face 
No matter how he rains or blows -- 
Then O that I wild April were, 
To play with laughing Rose.