ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 
53 
MAY MORNING. 
FOR SIX GIRLS 
G REETED me at early day, 
Groups of girls the fields adorning; 
Wreathing for their queen of May, 
Blossoms of the morning. 
Cease, I cried, o’er hill and heath, 
Wasting thus the fragrant hours; 
I can make a fairer wreath — 
You shall be the flowers. 
Who will be a violet? — 
Little Alice, take thy station; 
Lo ! thine eyes are dewy yet 
With some thought’s creation. 
Dainty words and bashful smiles 
Wreathe thy fresh lips ever newly; 
Conquering with thy timid wiles, 
Harsher souls unruly. 
Margaret, with pure cold eyes, 
Thou shalt be a scornful lily 
Bending in a proud surprise ; 
Smiling proud and chilly. 
Loose adown thy snowy veil, 
Till those eyes, like stars of even, 
Through the silver cloud burn pale, 
Lighting still the heaven. 
Now a rose ! Now a rose ! 
Look at Julia, richly blushing, 
Where the sun his kisses throws, 
Hair and forehead flushing. 
Floating o’er the crimson cheek, 
Mossy ringlets fall disparted; 
Darling rose, so mild, so meek, 
True and fragrant-hearted. 
Where shall we a daisy see? — 
Yonder sits my romping Lizzie, 
With her hand upon her knee, 
In some mischief busy. 
