May

Beautiful, as Fairies skipping
O'er the meadows, May comes tripping, 
From the leaves the light dew sipping, 
And her locks with rain-drops dripping,
                                   Greenness is her portion.

Gently are the zephyrs blowing, 
Winter's latest breath is going,
Green the grassy meads are growing, 
And the sparkling rills are flowing
                                   To the distant ocean.

Voices in the field are ringing,
Birds upon the boughs are singing, 
Violets from their beds are springing, 
And all nature May is bringing
                                   Into life and motion.

Fragrance o'er the air is stealing,
As the rose-buds are unsealing, 
Many a lovely flower revealing, 
All conspire to wake a feeling
                                   In us, of devotion.