A Welcome To The Month Of Mary.

Oh! gladly do we welcome thee,
    Fair pleasant month of May;
Month which we've eager longed to see,
    Through many a wintry day:
And now with countless budding flowers,
    With sunshine bright and clear -
To gild the quickly fleeting hours -
    At length, sweet month, thou'rt here!

But, yet, we do not welcome thee
    Because thy genial breath
Hath power our sleeping land to free
    From winter's clasp of death;
Nor yet because fair flowers are springing
    Beneath thy genial ray;
And thousand happy birds are singing
    All welcome to thee, May!

No, higher, nobler cause have we
    These bright days to rejoice -
'Twas God ordained that thou should'st be
    The loved month of our choice:
It is because thou hast been given
    To honor her alone,
The ever gentle Queen of Heaven -
    The mother of God's son.

The blossoms that we joyous cull
    By bank or silver stream;
The fragrant hawthorn boughs we pull,
    Most sacred too, we deem:
For not amid our tresses we
    Their op'ning buds will twine,
But garlands fair we'll weave with care
    For Mary's lowly shrine.

And when the twilight shades descend
    On earth, so hushed and still,
And the lone night bird's soft notes blend
    With breeze from glade and hill,
We seek her shrine with loving heart,
    And, humbly kneeling there,
We linger long, loth to depart
    From that sweet place of prayer!

Oh! who can tell with what gifts rare
    Our Mother will repay
Their love who honor thus with care
    Her own sweet month of May!
A grace for every flower they've brought
    Or 'Ave, they have said;
And ev'ry pious, holy thought
    Shall be by her repaid!