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Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

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179<br />

Let us seek the wandering May,<br />

She is off to the plain,<br />

Finding the winding<br />

Of the labyrinthine lane.<br />

She is passing through its mazes<br />

While the hawthorn, as it gazes<br />

With grief, lets its leaflets<br />

Whiten all the way--<br />

We shall find the wandering maiden there to-day.<br />

Let us seek her in the ray--<br />

Let us track her by the rill--<br />

Wending ascending<br />

The slopings of the hill.<br />

Where the robin from the copses<br />

Breathes a love-note, and then drops his<br />

Trilling, till, willing,<br />

His mate responds his lay--<br />

We shall find the listening maiden there to-day.<br />

But why seek her far away?<br />

Like a young bird in its nest,<br />

She is warming and forming<br />

Her dwelling in her breast.<br />

While the heart she doth repose on,<br />

Like the down the sunwind blows on,<br />

Gloweth, yet showeth<br />

The trembling of the ray--<br />

We shall find the happy maiden there to-day.<br />

THE TIDINGS.<br />

A bright beam came to my window frame,<br />

This sweet May morn,<br />

And it said to the cold, hard glass:<br />

Oh! let me pass,<br />

For I have good news to tell,<br />

The queen of the dewy dell,

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