YOUNG May sat fainting and chill,
And neither could live nor die;
She looked and hated the sky,
Yet knew not what was her ill.
Ah well-a-day!
For the lonely May.
She tired of weeping, and slept;
Who woke her up but the Sun?
And joy and love had begun
To teach her why she had wept
Oh bright new day
For the startled May!
Augusta Davies Webster
