Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/23



’Twas late at eve the first of May, A night in May ’twas time for love. A love song sang the turtle dove, Where scented pine groves stretched away. The tranquil moss sighed love’s lament; Love’s sorrow shammed the blooming tree, A nightingale sang love’s melody, While a rose replied with love’s sweet scent. The lake, hid where the thicket reared, Expressed its grief in a muffled sound, Where banks entwined it all around; The suns of other worlds appeared And strayed across the azure spheres,