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And catch the low gush of its exquisite chime,
And set it to music, and turn it to rhyme,
With a spirit as light as its own.
And set it to music, and turn it to rhyme,
With a spirit as light as its own.
And sweet to recline 'neath the emerald-robed trees,
Where fairy-like footsteps have trod,
With the lull of the waters, the hum of the bees,
Melting into the spirit delicious degrees
Of exquisite softness! in moments like these,
I have walked with the angels of God.
Where fairy-like footsteps have trod,
With the lull of the waters, the hum of the bees,
Melting into the spirit delicious degrees
Of exquisite softness! in moments like these,
I have walked with the angels of God.
Sweet season of love, when the fairy-queen trips
At eve through the star-lighted grove—
What vows are now breathed where the honey-bee sips!
What cheeks, whose bright beauties the roses eclipse,
Are crimsoned with blushes! what rose-tinted lips
Are moist with the kisses of love!
At eve through the star-lighted grove—
What vows are now breathed where the honey-bee sips!
What cheeks, whose bright beauties the roses eclipse,
Are crimsoned with blushes! what rose-tinted lips
Are moist with the kisses of love!
Yet, loveliest of months! with the praises I sing,
Thy glories are passing away
With the dew from the blossom, the bird on the wing,
Yet round thee a garland poetic I fling,
Sweet sister of April! young child of the Spring!
O beautiful, beautiful May!
Thy glories are passing away
With the dew from the blossom, the bird on the wing,
Yet round thee a garland poetic I fling,
Sweet sister of April! young child of the Spring!
O beautiful, beautiful May!
