May Day

May Day Dear mountain home, with dreamy gladness, Fond mem'ry scans the fleeting years When times and scenes of happy childhood, Make thee a theme which still endears. Fair May Day, what a rose-hued glamour, Of happy thoughts thy name doth bring, When sounds of children's gladsome voices Make all the hills and woodlands ring. With quick'ning step we'd seek the flow'rets That blossomed 'neath the oak tree shade, And butter cups of golden treasures Were peeping from the canyon glade. Full well we knew where grew the hair bells, Where every blossom had its root, For other years we'd watched with longing, Yes, waited, for the buds to shoot. And 'monst these scenes of sweet enchantment, I think, though tired, with weary feet, Of keen enjoyment, eating lunches Beside the stream, in cool retreat. And then, with lagging footsteps, turning At last toward home to wend our way, While youthful hands were fondly clasping. In gorgeous hues, spoils of May Day ! Blest mountain home! the years \a\e brought me Far, far away from thy fair sky, Yet on this joyous day of spring time, On wings of mem'ry back I fly. Raymond, Canada Helen Kimball Or gill