imitation 4 by Lauren Jernberg

April By: Lauren Jernberg

This year, starting in late April, the sun

Shined and made the grass green and soft to touch.

It was the sign we waited for. The start

Of something. Mother nature telling us

To go outside breath it in you deserve to

Be happy and joyful. Laying in the grass,

Basking in the sun there is no better time

Then a nice spring day. Take it all in.

 Because all to soon it changes. In the

Quiet of a new spring an old friend returns

Bearing gifts. As the rain falls down hard on

The students here. It sounds like golf balls on

The window pane. Sadness floods the minds of

Everyone, like riding a wave and

Having it crash on you. Mother nature

 Is not the friend you wish she could be.

Being bi-polar makes it hard for her

To stay one way for too long. Moving back

And forth like a flag in the wind. God bless

America. The flag goes up. Life changes all the

Time. Like bumps in the road or the weather.

You never know where it will take you.

Clear skies or rainy days you just have to

Cruise along with it. You get hard skin like

The soldier risking his life and watching

Friends die. You learn to take blows and to not

Get excited to often. You don’t lose

Sight of what is important. You watch as

It all changes. You see the sun and think

What you would give for one last chance.

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The Nineteenth Of April 

This year, till late in April, the snow fell thick and light:

Thy truce-flag, friendly Nature, in clinging drifts of white,

Hung over field and city: now everywhere is seen,

In place of that white quietness, a sudden glow of green.

The verdure climbs the Common, beneath the leafless trees,

To where the glorious Stars and Stripes are floating on the breeze.

There, suddenly as Spring awoke from Winter’s snow-draped gloom,

The Passion-Flower of Seventy-six is bursting into bloom.

Dear is the time of roses, when earth to joy is wed,

And garden-plot and meadow wear one generous flush of red;

But now in dearer beauty, to her ancient colors true,

Blooms the old town of Boston in red and white and blue.

Along the whole awakening North are those bright emblems spread;

A summer noon of patriotism is burning overhead:

No party badges flaunting now, no word of clique or clan;

But “Up for God and Union!” is the shout of every man.

Oh, peace is dear to Northern hearts; our hard-earned homes more dear;

But freedom is beyond the price of any earthly cheer;

And freedom’s flag is sacred; he who would work it harm,

Let him, although a brother, beware our strong right arm!

A brother! ah, the sorrow, the anguish of that word!

The fratricidal strife begun, when will its end be heard?

Not this the boon that patriot hearts have prayed and waited for;—

We loved them, and we longed for peace: but they would have it war.

Yes; war! on this memorial day, the day of Lexington,

A lightning-thrill along the wires from heart to heart has run.

Brave men we gazed on yesterday, to-day for us have bled:

Again is Massachusetts blood the first for Freedom shed.

To war,—and with our brethren, then,—if only this can be!

Life hangs as nothing in the scale against dear Liberty!

Though hearts be torn asunder, for Freedom we will fight:

Our blood may seal the victory, but God will shield the Right!