MAY DAY.

BY CHRISTOPH DURANG.

THE sun has arisen, then why should we
Be later than he, this festival day;

We have boughs to gather and wreaths to twine,
As a tribute from tree and flower, to May.

The birds are singing their melodies sweet,

Nature seems drest in her brightest array, As though to welcome the morning of spring, This morning-beautiful morning of May.

We'll build us a shady bower of leaves,

A shelter to rest 'neath when tired with play, With green boughs above us and flowers within, And hearts, too, as bright as dear sunny May.

Each month of the year has some joy in store, But quickly, too quickly, 'tis fleeting away; And thou, like the rest, will fade from us soon, Leaving but mem'ry of beautiful May.