In these lines, the speaker ties her inner mood to spring. As long as April returns, she feels lifted: her heart holds up “white dreams” to the sky, much as trees hold up their blossoms in a blowing cloud. Her hands reach out with pride rather than hesitation. Even memories of autumn’s crumbled splendours and the cries of cold winds cannot make her wise in a guarded, bitter way. She refuses to let past losses teach caution. Instead, she becomes like the April trees—fearless and fair—sending her heart’s hopes through the golden air like incense swinging from censers. The mood is bright, defiant, and almost sacred, treating spring as a moment of renewal in which hope overrides sadness and experience.
Blossom-Time — Summary
So long as there is April My heart is high, Lifting up its white dreams To the sky.
As trees hold up their blossoms In a blowing cloud, My hands are reaching. My hands are proud.
All the crumbled splendours Of autumn, and the cries Of winds that I remember Cannot make me wise.
Like the trees of April Fearless and fair — My heart swings its censers Through the golden air.