_This Spring's soft beauty is a joy for ever;
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass to forgetfulness; we still must keep
Fond memories of this Maytime, calm as sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on this May morning are we wreathing
A flowery band, to bind us round the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of patriot natures, Mammen-ridden days,
And Toil's unhealthy and o'erdarkened ways
Made for our mending: yes, in spite of all
This Mayday Vision moves away the pall
From our dark spirits!_