Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton collected and arranged by H. Augusta Dodge |
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VALE ET SALVE |
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 | Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton |  |
113
VALE ET SALVE
May mornings! May mornings!
We bid you good-by.
You spread us the blue
Of our soft-smiling sky.
Wove garlands of green
For the wakening earth,
And kissed the young buds
Into full blossom birth.
New balm in the breezes,
New light on the river—
May mornings, May mornings,
We bless you forever.
We bid you good-by.
You spread us the blue
Of our soft-smiling sky.
Wove garlands of green
For the wakening earth,
And kissed the young buds
Into full blossom birth.
New balm in the breezes,
New light on the river—
May mornings, May mornings,
We bless you forever.
But there breathes through our blessings
A sad farewell
Like the mournful tones
Of a silver bell.
You pass in your glory
Of greeting away.
With singing and dancing,
We welcome you, May!
With a pain at the heart
And a tear in the eye,
May mornings, May mornings,
We bid you good-by.
A sad farewell
Like the mournful tones
Of a silver bell.
You pass in your glory
Of greeting away.
With singing and dancing,
We welcome you, May!
With a pain at the heart
And a tear in the eye,
May mornings, May mornings,
We bid you good-by.
114
June roses, June roses!
Say where do ye tarry?
See ye not little feet
And young eyes growing weary,
Weary with waiting
And watching for you?
Come smile in the sunshine,
Come weep in the dew.
Hark! the low voice
Of the soft south breeze
Up in the tops
Of the tall pine trees.
She has tales to tell
Of a far-off land
Where the sweet-scented orange groves
White-vestured stand.
And see! in her breath,
How the old earth rejoices
And answers her back
With a thousand voices.
Out on the hillside
The young lambs are flinging,
All the apple blooms
Thrill with gay singing.
Say where do ye tarry?
See ye not little feet
And young eyes growing weary,
Weary with waiting
And watching for you?
Come smile in the sunshine,
Come weep in the dew.
Hark! the low voice
Of the soft south breeze
Up in the tops
Of the tall pine trees.
She has tales to tell
Of a far-off land
Where the sweet-scented orange groves
White-vestured stand.
And see! in her breath,
How the old earth rejoices
And answers her back
With a thousand voices.
Out on the hillside
The young lambs are flinging,
All the apple blooms
Thrill with gay singing.
Brooks ripple down
With a musical laughter,
And bare little feet trip on
Noiselessly after.
Poised in the clover-tops
Honey-bees murmur,
And lo! on the meadow
The olive-browed Summer!
O fairest and best
Of the gifts of the year,
June roses, June roses!
We welcome you here.
With a musical laughter,
And bare little feet trip on
Noiselessly after.
115
Honey-bees murmur,
And lo! on the meadow
The olive-browed Summer!
O fairest and best
Of the gifts of the year,
June roses, June roses!
We welcome you here.
June 3, 1856.
| Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton | |