ARBOR DA Y MAX UAL. 



26l 



THE LOST MAY. 



WHEN Mar, with cowslip braided locks, 

 Walks through the land in green attire, 

 And burns in meadow grass the phlox 

 His torch of purple fire; 



When buds have burst the silver sheath, 

 And shifting pink, and gray, and gold 



Steal o'er the woods, while fair beneath 

 The bloomy vales unfold; 



When, emerald bright, the hemlock stands 

 New feathered, needled new the pine; 



And, exiles from the orient lands, 

 The turbaned tulips shine; 



When wild azaleas deck the knoll, 



And cinque-foil stars the fields of home, 



And winds that take the white-weed, roll 

 The meadows into foam; 



Then from the jubilee I turn 



To other Mays that I have seen, 



Where more resplendent blossoms burn, 

 And statelier woods are green. 



Mays, when my heart expanded first, 

 A honeyed blossom, fresh with dew; 



And one sweet wind of heaven dispersed 

 The only clouds I knew. 



For she, whose softly murmured name 

 The music of the month expressed, 



Walked by my side, in holy shame 

 Of girlish love confessed. 



The budding chestnuts overhead, 



Their sprinkled shadows in the lane, 



Blue flowers along the brooklet's bed, 

 I see them all again ! 



The old, old tale of girl and boy, 



Repeated ever, never old; 

 To each in turn the gates of joy, 



The gates of heaven unfold. 



And when the punctual May arrives, 

 With cowslip-garland on her brow, 



We know what once she gave our lives, 

 And cannot give us now ! 



TAYLOR. 



THE MAY FLOWER. 



(TRAILING ARBUTUS.) 

 From the souvenir "Our National Flower," by permission of the publishers, Messrs. L. Prang & Co., Boston. 



T T THEN stern New England's tardy spring My fragrance, like a message sweet, 

 VV First thrills with life her rugged breast, Their spirits touched, and reverently 



Tis I, who, shyly venturing, They chose the blossom at their feet, 



Peep forth, her earliest, sweetest guest. The symbol of their faith to be. 



'Twas I the Pilgrim Fathers found 



When April called them to the wood, 



Trailing upon the leaf- strewn ground, 

 Fair sign of nature's yielding mood. 



They marked my petals' tender hue, 

 Soft flushing in the light of day ; 



My fragile grace they guarded knew 

 Amid my rough leaves' disarray. 



They, too, had wrapped with roughest forms 

 The gracious gospel tha^t they loved; 



They, too, had braved life's rudest storms, 

 Their simple courage, simply proved. 



They, too, should prosper in the land 



Where trusting flowers undaunted thrive 



Their race, deep rooted, firm should stand, 

 And freedom's cause triumphant live. 

 HOPESTILL GOODWIN. 



