A May Song — Frances Louisa Bushnell

Weave high, weave lowThy veil of blossom-snow,Yet think not so to blind me, gentle May;Too idly sweet thy wandering breezes blow—Oh! much I fear, dear May,Thou wilt not stay.

I've known, ere now,A fairer one than thou,Sweeter than winds that 'mid the violets stray:My heart was like a nest on flowering bough—Too like, for neither sprayNor bird would stay.

Before I knew,The bough was broken in two,The blossoms withered and bird flew away:Since then I clasp no hope that is not trueAnd strong enough alwayWith me to stay.

No longer clingsMy heart to dreamful thingsThat breathe and perish in a blossom's day,That sing a song or two, then spread their wings.Oh! well I know, sweet May,Thou wilt not stay.