Oh green bud, smile on me awhile,
Oh young bird, let me stay :—
What joy have we, old leaf, in thee?
Make room, make room for May:
Begone, fly away,

Make room for May.

III

The morning broke and Spring was there, And lusty Summer near her birth;

The birds awoke and waked the air,

The flowers awoke and waked the earth.

Up! quoth he, what joy for me

On dewy plain, in budding brake!

A sweet bird sings on every tree,

And flowers are sweeter for my sake.

Lightly o'er the plain he stept,

Lightly brush'd he through the wood, And snared a little bird that slept

And had not waken'd when she should.

Lightly through the wood he brush'd,
Lightly stept he o'er the plain,
And yet a little flower was crush'd

That never raised its head again.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN

Born 1801

THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD

Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home-
Lead Thou me on!

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene,-one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou
Shouldst lead me on.

I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on,

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

THE ELEMENTS

A TRAGIC CHORUS

Man is permitted much

To scan and learn

In Nature's frame;

Till he well-nigh can tame

Brute mischiefs and can touch

Invisible things, and turn

All warring ills to purposes of good.

Thus, as a god below,

He can control,

And harmonize, what seems amiss to flow

As sever'd from the whole

And dimly understood.

But o'er the elements

One Hand alone,

One Hand has sway.

What influence day by day

In straiter belt prevents

The impious Ocean, thrown

Alternate o'er the ever-sounding shore?

Or who has eye to trace

How the Plague came?

Forerun the doublings of the Tempest's race?

Or the Air's weight and flame

On a set scale explore?

Thus God has will'd

That man, when fully skill'd,
Still gropes in twilight dim;
Encompass'd all his hours
By fearfullest powers
Inflexible to him.

That so he may discern

His feebleness.

And e'en for earth's success

To Him in wisdom turn,

Who holds for us the keys of either home, Earth and the world to come.

THE MONTH OF MARY

SONG

Green are the leaves, and sweet the flowers,

And rich the hues of May;

We see them in the gardens round,

And market-paniers gay :

And e'en among our streets, and lanes,

And alleys, we descry,

By fitful gleams, the fair sunshine,

The blue transparent sky.

CHORUS

O Mother maid, be thou our aid,
Now in the opening year;

Lest sights of earth to sin give birth,
And bring the tempter near.

Green is the grass, but wait awhile,
'Twill grow, and then will wither;
The flowrets, brightly as they smile,
Shall perish altogether:

The merry sun, you sure would say,
It ne'er could set in gloom;

But earth's best joys have all an end,
And sin, a heavy doom.