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(ome, Aurelia, cone and see
Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May;
The tresses of the woods
And the full-brimming flools,
JAMES GATES PERCIVAL
Come with all thy sweetest wiles,
THEY COME! THE MERRY SCIER
They come! the merry summer months of
beauty, song, and flowers ; Ay! and should not life be gay?
They come! the gladsome months that bring
thick leafiness to bowers. Yes, Aurelia, come away.
JOHN DYER. Up, up, my heart ! and walk abroad ; fling cark
and care aside ; Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful
waters glide ; MAY MORNING.
Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal
tree, Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to
the hand; Mirth and youth and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
And, like the kiss of maiden love, the breeze is
sweet and bland ; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song,
The daisy and the buttercup are nodding cour.
teously ; And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
It stirs their blood with kindest lore, to bless
and welcome thee ; And mark how with thine own thin locks
they now are silvery grayMAY.
That blissful breeze is wantoning, and whisper
ing, “ Be gay!" I FEEL a newer life in every gale ; The winds that fan the flowers,
There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of And with their welcome breathings fill the sail,
yon sky Tell of serener hours, Of hours that glide unfelt away
But hath its own winged mariners to give it
melody; Beneath the sky of May.
Thou seest their glittering fans outspread, all
gleaming like red gold ; The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls And hark ! with shrill pipe musical, their merry From his blue throne of air,
course they hold. And where his whispering voice in music falls, God bless them all, those little ones, who, far Beauty is budding there ;
above this earth, The bright ones of the valley break Can make a scotf of its mean joys, and vent a Their slumbers, and awake.
The waving verdure rolls along the plain,
And the wide forest weaves,
A canopy of leaves ;
But soft ! mine ear upcaught a sound, - from
yonder wood it came ! The spirit of the dim green glade did breathe his
own glad name; Yes, it is he! the hermit bird, that, apart from
all his kind,