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IN HONOR OF DR. TABOR JOHNSON.

MAY 1, 1873.
[_]

'Twas on the first of May of last year in our rambles about the vicinity of the Soldiers' Home that I indited “The May Walk,” a small poem to be found in the preceding pages of this volume. This year, on the same day, I was wending my way in an opposite direction—to the Congregational Church— where my esteemed friend, the doctor, was to be married to his now lovely wife. Whilst stopping for a moment to assist

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a friend in moving some articles of furniture from the pavement to his house, the bridal party passed on their way to the Church. However, although I missed the wished for opportunity to witness the ceremonies, the muse of poetry suggested thoughts, as they passed by, which I hope the doctor will find no fault in my embodying them with my other collections.

Come, idle pen, and let us sing
To May, the flowery month of spring,
And, too, with gladsome voice, we 'll hail
The May queen with the bridal veil.
Sweet month, one year ago our roam—
The hills and vales 'round Soldiers' Home—
Was bright with flowers and verdure green,
Fit tributes to thy fairy queen.
The scene has changed: for you, kind friend,
We 'll garlands with our poesy blend,
And humbly at your feet now lay
Our offerings to your Queen of May.
The happy bridegroom and the bride
In blissful love sit side by side,
Whilst twit'ring birds, with swelling throats,
Are caroling their matin notes.
Go, loved ones, meet the waiting group
Of anxious friends, who fondly hope
That each recurring first of May
May prove a golden wedding day.
O many, prosperous years be thine;
And may angelic hosts entwine
A wreath for each, of faith and love—
A fadeless crown in Heaven above.
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