There’s much to be said in praise of the small poem. For one thing, small poems, like today’s Poem of the Day by Sara Teasdale (1884–1933), are easy to memorize. In fact, Teasdale’s “April” is a particularly portable poem, good for tucking in the pocket of the mind: two brief quatrains, tetrameter resolving into trimeter in the last line, rhymes in the second and fourth lines of each stanza. Read it twice with attention, and you have it forever.

For another thing, a small poem may be potent in its imagery and concentrated mood. In eight lines, Teasdale sketches the chanciness of spring and the determination to believe in its coming despite the lack of evidence. As much as this is a child’s poem, with a child’s simple observations, it is at the same time a poem about the conviction of things not seen, yet perceived inwardly. Though a small poem, it holds in its brief space the largeness of a child’s hopeful vision, befitting our week of April poetry here in The New York Sun.

April 
by Sara Teasdale 
 
The roofs are shining from the rain. 
The sparrows twitter as they fly, 
And with a windy April grace 
The little clouds go by. 

Yet the back-yards are bare and brown 
With only one unchanging tree — 
I could not be so sure of Spring 
Save that it sings in me.

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With “Poem of the Day,” The New York Sun offers a daily portion of verse selected by Joseph Bottum with the help of the North Carolina poet Sally Thomas, the Sun’s associate poetry editor. Tied to the day, or the season, or just individual taste, the poems are drawn from the deep traditions of English verse: the great work of the past, together with the living poets who keep those traditions alive. The goal is always to show that poetry can still serve as a delight to the ear, an instruction to the mind, and a tonic for the soul.