Poems (Ford)/May

For works with similar titles, see May.

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MAY.
Again with joy we greet thee, O flower-crowned, sunny May;We've listened for thy footsteps through many a dreary day;Now wrapped in robes of beauty thou'st burst upon our view,Thy emerald sandals spangled with pearls of purest dew.
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From out the future's bosom thou'st sprung on radiant wings;The varied voice of Nature to thee an anthem sings;The green aisles of the forest peal forth the gladsome strain,And rivers bear it onward rejoicing to the main.
Thy lap is filled with blossoms—the brightest buds that blow;Sweet smiles and fond caresses on them thou dost bestow,Awaking them with sunbeams, and nursing them with showers,For "Israel's spotless Lily," the glorious queen of flowers.
Thou art the month of Mary, O mild and genial May;The blossoms thou dost scatter along thy sunny wayBreathe out in dewy garlands, that loving hands entwine,Their short, sweet lives of beauty before our Mother's shrine.
O gentle Queen of Heaven, from thy bright throne aboveForever wafting downward sweet messages of love ​To thy poor, wandering children, look kindly, we entreat,Upon the simple offerings we lay before thy feet.
And as their incense rises around thy starry throne,Thy voice in prayer lift upward for us unto thy Son,That in our hearts fair flowers of grace may bloom each day,More bright than buds that blossom upon the brow of May.

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