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FIRST OF MAY
Their rays athwart them. Ah, the light
Is bright and fair!
No suns that shine upon me now are bright
As those suns were.
And, gazing down into the stream,
I see a face,
As sweet as buds that blossom in a dream,
Ere sorrows chase
Fair dreams from men, and send in lieu
Sad thoughts. A wreath
Of blue-bells binds the head—a bluer blue
The eyes beneath.
This is my little Annie's face;
My child-sweetheart
Whom long ago I lost in that dark place
Where all lives part.
Beside me still I see her stand,
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