THE YOUNG YEAR. Budding branches in the young year smiling · As Phœbus, from his car of dazzling splendour, As a bridegroom feasteth with a bride; Of her future joy the soul and guide. Where stark wintry trees on rugged mountains A MAY SONG. There is no month like the month of May, Blooming, blossoming, maidensweet May, Life is triumphant on every spray, And pleasanter grows the lengthening day The white pear blossoms are falling in showers Mocking the snow of the yule tide hours, And the apple boughs tangled with bright promise flowers, Curtain the light in our orchard bowers. Hither away Where the soft winds play, List to the voices that call thee away. Poet lay aside thy pen, The soft winds say. Toiler, leave the haunts of men Where no soft winds play. Templar come from thy dusky den— Artist, roam in the gold gorse glen Where the soft winds play. Turn thy fever'd cheek to the air That will kiss away from thy brow its care. For there is no month like the month of May. Daisy crown'd May, Blooming, blossoming, maidensweet May, WHEN THE CHESTNUTS LIFT THEIR When the chestnuts lift their blossoms O'er the fragrance of the May, When the sunny bright laburnum Waves its pensile locks of gold, And the rich blue iris flowers Their soft blossomings unfold; When the breath of early morning Woos the cheek with perfume sweet, Turn we then to those who love us, SUMMER-BREATHING BUTTERFLY. Summer-breathing butterfly Beauty on thy wings, Thy gay coming brings. Feasting on the rose ; Jasmine flowers unclose: Climbing up a sea-green stem Her soft nest has made. Swift as radiant thought To the poet brought. Ever like a dream of life In the sunbright air; Now thy pinions o'er thy head Fold like hands in prayer. Speed thy wooing, Psyche gay, Soon will sorrowing Autumn say FULGET CANDIDA DIES. Wild bees humming. Golden is the mellow morn, In the long fern rests the fawn- Gems are glistening on the lawn, Bees are humming. Swallows flying To and fro among the leaves, Constant plying: Here and there, with purple light Distant cawing, Over the elm branches high Stretching upwards to the sky Querulous with ceaseless sound, White swans gliding, Where the breeze-strewn cloudlets flow In the crystal stream below Calmly gliding. Heaven reflected from above, Soft air whispering peace and love, Man's heart guiding. FINIS CORONAT. Splendour of ethereal light! Skies and seas in glory blending With thy grand hymn to the night From the zenith slow descending, Night that stedfast toil doth bless In tranquilising tenderness. Down the old elm glade, thy beams Into radiant mist are spreading; And the moted glory streams Silvery seraph light are shedding, Where yon children clothed in white Shine coruscant, angel bright. Light from time eterne that springs ! Mystic music, heavenward calling, Creeps along air woven strings As the day's red orb is falling: Lambent fire the tree tops hold Lancing spires of vivid gold. Spirit of transforming love! All benignant is thy power; Man's best blessing from above, With us now at this sweet hour, As we worship thee awhile In the long day's parting smile. |