MAY.
O, this is the beautiful month of May,
The season of birds and of flowers;
The young and the lovely are out and away,
Mid the up-springing grass and the blossoms, at play;
And many a heart will be happy to-day,
In this beautiful region of ours.
The season of birds and of flowers;
The young and the lovely are out and away,
Mid the up-springing grass and the blossoms, at play;
And many a heart will be happy to-day,
In this beautiful region of ours.
Sweet April, the frail, the capriciously bright,
Hath passed like the lovely away,
Yet we mourn not her absence, for swift at her flight
Sprang forth, her young sister, an angel of light,
And fair as a sunbeam that dazzles the sight,
Is beautiful, beautiful May.
Hath passed like the lovely away,
Yet we mourn not her absence, for swift at her flight
Sprang forth, her young sister, an angel of light,
And fair as a sunbeam that dazzles the sight,
Is beautiful, beautiful May.
What scenes of delight, what sweet visions she brings
Of freshness, of gladness, and mirth,
Of fair sunny glades where the buttercup springs,
Of cool gushing fountains, of rose-tinted wings,
Of birds, bees, and blossoms, all beautiful things,
Whose brightness rejoices the earth.
Of freshness, of gladness, and mirth,
Of fair sunny glades where the buttercup springs,
Of cool gushing fountains, of rose-tinted wings,
Of birds, bees, and blossoms, all beautiful things,
Whose brightness rejoices the earth.
How fair is the landscape! o'er hill-top and glade,
What swift-varying colors are rolled—
What swift-varying colors are rolled—
