by George Marion McClellan
The lovely May has come at last,
With songs and gleaming dews,
And apple blossoms bursting out
With evanescent hues.
A newer life, a newer charm
Is bursting every hour,
With pledge and faithful promises,
From leaf and bud and flower.
And hope is growing on the hill,
And blooming in the vale,
And comes new vigor and new life
On every passing gale.
But O my heart! my heart of hearts,
What hope is there for me,
For what was hope and what was joy,
For me have ceased to be.
The woodlark's tender warbling lay,
Which flows with melting art,
Is but a trembling song of love,
That serves to break my heart.
Gay flowers burst on every side,
The fairest of the fair,
But what are these to any heart
That's breaking with despair?
O May! my heart had found a rose
As lovely as the morn,
Which charmed awhile, then faithless went,
But left with me its thorn.
Last updated February 14, 2024