April rain in the wind-washed clover,
Sing melodies to ease deep pain, deep death.
Gently blow above her,
April rain.
If song nor wind nor wind-washed strain of song can comfort her,
O, then cover her with silence and never come again.
Silence and peace to those who love her,
Peace in the eyes of the windy plain,
Earth nor sky nor song can move her
Nor April rain.