McClure's Magazine/Volume 9/Number 1/May

MAY.

By Mrs. T. H. Huxley.

I.

Listen, a spirit is singing Over the earth; A new birth Of beauty she carols, swift bringing Verdure for field, blooms for the bower. Life's great heart throbs with stronger beats, Loveliness grows from hour to hour In color upon earth and sky, Hope fills each breast, we know not why; The joyousness of May entreats.

II.

Clear sounds from tree to tree Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Into her shoe The maiden looks to see Thread of hair, black, brown, or gold; Keen her gaze by hope possessed, As though her fate she could unfold, And by the rustic spell discover If dark or fair shall be her lover— Doubtful knowledge, mystic quest.

III.

Orchards are white with foam of snow; May has come; You may hear the hum Of the bee in the blossoms to and fro; A wealth of flowers! The golden tress Of laburnum hangs o'er the garden wall; There sings the thrush with loving stress From a bush of lilac. Gay wall-flowers Blazon the corners by leafy bowers. Drink deep, that your soul may life's May recall.

IV.

To doubting hearts, sweet May, Sing, "Joy is duty, Garner beauty, Store for the future, for delight And warmth against the chilly day, November's, with the lengthening night. Joy's glories, flaming to the end, As northern lights with darkness blend, Stream through your hearts when old and gray, And beautify them till the last pulse play."