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!