MAY TWENTY-SEVENTH

Earth's creeds may be seventy times seven

And blood have defiled each creed;

If, of such is the Kingdom of Heaven,

It must be Heaven indeed.

Swinburne

MAY TWENTY-EIGHTH

No song quite worth a young child's ears

Broke ever even from birds in May.

Swinburne

MAY TWENTY-NINTH

And remain through all bewildering,

Innocent and honest children.

Robert Louis Stevenson

MAY THIRTIETH

Before life's sweetest mystery still

The heart in reverence kneels;

The wonder of the primal birth

The latest mother feels.

Whittier

MAY THIRTY-FIRST

O, The days gone by! O, the days gone by!

The music of the laughing lip, the luster of the eye;

The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin's magic ring—

The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in every thing.—

When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh,

In the golden, olden glory of the days gone by.

James Whitcomb Riley