The Teachers Of Our Law, And To

Now The Bright Morning-star, Day's Harbinger, Comes Dancing From The East, And Leads With Her The Flowery May, Who From Her Green Lap Throws The Yellow Cowslip And The Pale Primrose. Hail, Bounteous May, That Dost Inspire Mirth, And Youth, And Warm Desire! Woods And Groves Are Of Thy Dressing; Hill And Dale Doth Boast Thy Blessing. Thus We Salute Thee With Our Early Song, And Welcome Thee, And Wish Thee Long.

Her Silent Course Advance With Inoffensive Pace, That Spinning Sleeps On Her Soft Axle.

I Sat Me Down To Watch Upon A Bank With Ivy Canopied And Interwove With Flaunting Honeysuckle.

The Love-lorn Nightingale Nightly To Thee Her Sad Song Mourneth Well.

And To The Faithful: Death, The Gate Of Life.