Now is the legend revealed,
And my cities also are healed,
Consoled till they love each other,
Like a child that has wept, by its mother,
In the things mysterious all
Of altars processional,
And now all my country is dight
With dahlias and lilies white,
Your candles to glorify
Mary, ere May passes by.
Lo! endless the pleasure is,
May returned, and maladies
Borne to horizons blue,
On vessels simple and true,
Far away, on the sea so far
Hardly seen, or like dots they are.
Now, under trees, the time glides
In the street where my life abides;
Mary of meek workers, steep
In the May-wood my head in the sleep
And the rest that my good tools have earned;
Sound mind in a sound body urned,
In a Mary-month more splendid,
Because all my task is ended.