Ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye,

And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly!

With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine-I may not stay.

Away from the dwellings of care-worn men,
The waters are sparkling in grove and glen!
Away from the chamber and sullen hearth,
The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth!
Their light stems thrill to the wild-wood strains,
And youth is abroad in my green domains.

But ye!-ye are changed since ye met me last! There is something bright from your features passed!

There is that come over your

brow and eye

Which speaks of a world where the flowers must

die!

-Ye smile! but your smile hath a dimness yet:
Oh! what have you looked on since last we met?

Ye are changed, ye are changed!—and I see not here

All whom I saw in the vanished year!

There were graceful heads, with their ringlets bright,

Which tossed in the breeze with a play of light;

There were eyes in whose glistening laughter lay
No faint remembrance of dull decay!

There were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's head, As if for a banquet all earth was spread;

There were voices that rang through the sapphire sky,

And had not a sound of mortality!

Are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains passed?

--Ye have looked on Death since ye met me last.

I know whence the shadow comes o'er you now—
Ye have strewn the dust on the sunny brow!
Ye have given the lovely to earth's embrace-
She hath taken the fairest of beauty's race,
With their laughing eyes and their festal crown:
They are gone from amongst you in silence down!

They are gone from amongst you, the young and fair,

Ye have lost the gleam of their shining hair!

THE MAY-BUSH.

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But I know of a land where there falls no blightI shall find them there, with their eyes of light!

Where Death midst the blooms of the morn may

dwell,

I tarry no longer-farewell, farewell!

The summer is coming, on soft winds borne-
Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn!
For me, I depart to a brighter shore-

Ye are marked by care, ye are mine no more:
where the loved who have left you dwell,
And the flowers are not Death's.-Fare ye well,

I

go

farewell!

HEMANS.

THE MAY-BUSH.

YOUNG folk now flock in everywhere
To gather May-bushes, and smelling brere.
And home they hasten, the posts to dight,
And all the kirk pillars, ere day-light,
With hawthorn-buds, and sweet eglantine,
And garlands of roses.

Even this morning-no longer ago,

I saw a shole of shepherds outgo,

With singing, and shouting, and jolly cheer:
Before them went a lusty tabourer,

That unto many a hornpipe played,

Whereto they danced, each one with his maid.
To see these folk making such joyance
Made my heart after the pipe to dance.
Then to the greenwood they speed them all
To fetch home May, with their musical:
And home they bring him, in a royal throne,
Crowned as king; and his queen-fair one,
Was Lady Flora, on whom did attend.
A fair flock of fairies, and a fresh bend
Of lovely nymphs. O that I were there,
To help the ladies their May-bush to bear!

SPENSER.

SPRING.

THE Sweet season that bud and bloome forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill and cke the vale;
The nightingale with feathers new she sings;
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale.
Summer is come, for every spray now springs,

The hart hath hung his old head on the pale,

ON MAY MORNING.

The buck in brake his winter-coat he flings,

The fishes fleet with new-repairèd scale: The adder all her slough away she flings,

The swift swallow pursues the fliès small, The busy bee her honey now she mings.

Winter is worn that was the flower's bale, And thus I see, among those pleasant things, Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

EARL OF SURREY.

ON MAY MORNING.

Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May! that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

MILTON.

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