1864

MAY EVENING

by William Cullen Bryant

MAY EVENING -

The breath of Spring-time at this twilight hour

Comes through the gathering glooms,

And bears the stolen sweets of many a flower

Into my silent rooms. -

Where hast thou wandered, gentle gale, to find

The perfumes thou dost bring?

By brooks, that through the wakening meadows wind,

Or brink of rushy spring? -

Or woodside, where, in little companies,

The early wild-flowers rise,

Or sheltered lawn, where, mid encircling trees,

May's warmest sunshine lies? -

Now sleeps the humming-bird, that, in the sun,

Wandered from bloom to bloom;

Now, too, the weary bee, his day's work done,

Rests in his waxen room. -

Now every hovering insect to his place

Beneath the leaves hath flown;

And, through the long night hours, the flowery race

Are left to thee alone. -

O'er the pale blossoms of the sassafras

And o'er the spice-bush spray,

Among the opening buds, thy breathings pass,

And come embalmed away. -

Yet there is sadness in thy soft caress,

Wind of the blooming year!

The gentle presence, that was wont to bless

Thy coming, is not here. -

Go, then; and yet I bid thee not repair,

Thy gathered sweets to shed,

Where pine and willow, in the evening air,

Sigh o'er the buried dead. -

Pass on to homes where cheerful voices sound,

And cheerful looks are cast,

And where thou wakest, in thine airy round,

No sorrow of the past. -

Refresh the languid student pausing o'er

The learned page apart,

And he shall turn to con his task once more

With an encouraged heart. -

Bear thou a promise, from the fragrant sward,

To him who tills the land,

Of springing harvests that shall yet reward

The labors of his hand. -

And whisper, everywhere, that Earth renews

Her beautiful array,

Amid the darkness and the gathering dews,

For the return of day. - -