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!