The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
MayAlexander McLachlan (18181896)
T
Has awakened the morn,
Her tresses are dripping with dew;
Oh, hush thee and hark!
’Tis her herald the lark
That is singing afar in the blue:
Its happy heart ’s rushing,
In strains mildly gushing,
That reach to the revelling earth,
And sink through the deeps
Of the soul, till it leaps
Into raptures far deeper than mirth.
The live streams are leaping,
And laughing in gladness along;
The great hills are heaving,
The dark clouds are leaving,
The valleys have burst into song.
We’ll range through the dells
Of the bonnie blue-bells,
And sing with the streams on their way;
We’ll lie in the shades
Of the flower-covered glades,
And hear what the primroses say.
’Neath the green spreading bowers,
With the gems and the jewels May brings;
In the light of her eyes,
And the depth of her dyes,
We’ll smile at the purple of kings!
We’ll throw off our years,
With their sorrows and tears,
And time will not number the hours
We’ll spend in the woods,
Where no sorrow intrudes,
With the streams, and the birds, and the flowers.