BEAUTIFUL MAY.
Oh ’tis May,
Beautiful May,
Month of beautiful May,
Beautiful month of May.
Wild flowers blooming,
Grasses growing,
Wild brooks flowing,
Pheasants booming—
Oh ’tis May,
Beautiful May
Lovelier far than month of June,
Beautiful May!
And every day
Is putting the strings of life in tune.
May-buds peep
At robins chattering
To their mates
And those asleep,
Always flattering
With nodding pates
The farmer asnooze
That they will keep
From others the news
That cherries are in the tree.
The playful dawn
Is after the moon,
And the moon is running away.
Oh the stars like sheep are all running away
After the moon,
Away from the dawn,
Away from the dawn of the month of May,
Away, away, away.
With skip and play
They dance away
After the dizzy moon
That pales with the pallor of fright so soon
At the brightening sight,
Affright of the light
Of the morn of a lovelier month than June,
So soon, soon, soon.
Oh sweet May,
Beautiful May
Thus brightens her face each day,
And lets the light of her tresses stray
Into each part
Of the earth’s dark heart
Where flashes like lashes from diamonds play
The light from her eyes
In the spring’s emprise
Sinks deep in the soul of the sands;
And with glittering, flying hands
Every one
Of the sands doth run
And lift into life the clod from its bonds
That climbs to a soul like man’s.
She breathes on the air,
And the sweet winds wear
Her blooms in their billowy hair,
And pour out their perfumes and nectars rare
Distilled in the cup
That the goddesses sup
For the beautiful dutiful May so fair,
So rare and fairy fair.
She drinks of the stream,
And the glad waters gleam
With delight as they leap to her lips.
She creeps up the mountains and merrily sips
Of the fountains that spring
From the snows as they string
Up their bows for a shot at the lower rock-crypts
Where the sun like the dew-drop drips.
She skims to the plain
And frightens the train
That the winter has left on guard.
She whistles her bird-notes soft and hard
And calls from retreat
The bickering feet
Of the green that the winter in prison has barred,
—Sweet, te-weet, wheat.
DEEP UNTO DEEP.
A DOUBLE THRENODY.
Oh the bounding of the billows of the sea
Rolls the rhythm of their music unto me;
And a footstep that has fallen on the lea
Seems to echo from the boundless, soundless deep.
But the breaking of the billows—the billows as they leap,
Makes the silence of my sorrow with them weep;
While the echoes of the grottoes—the grottoes wildly start,
Ever throbbing to the music of my heart;—
Throbbing to the threnode,
Rocking to the rhythm,
Moaning to the music of my heart,—
Threnode throbbing ever,
Rhythm rocking ever,
Music moaning ever in my heart.
Oh my Love is on the billows of the sea,
Sending messages along the waves to me;
And the ever-singing shells along the lea
With my longing heart a constant chorus keep.
But the breaking of the message—the message from the deep,
Makes the silence of my sorrow inly weep;
While the moaning shells intoning, intoning griefs impart
Ever sobbing to the silence of my heart;—
Sobbing to the silence,
Intoning to the moaning,
Breaking to the breaking of my heart,—
Silent sobbing ever,
Grief intoning ever,
Breaking, breaking ever in my heart.