Lexington union. (Lexington, Miss.) 1838-18??, 1839-06-22

alpnRtrg.
A SONG OF MAY.
BY WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK.

BY WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK.
The Springs scented buds all around me are
swelling,
There are songs in the sream--there's health
in the gale;
A sense ofdelight in each bosom is dwelling;
AZ float the pure day dreams Ger mountain
and vale;
The desola,c reign Of Old Winter is broken
The verdure is fresh upon every tree;
OfNature's revival the charm--and token
Of love, oh thou Spirit of Beauty! to thee..
The sun looketh forth from the halls Of the morn
ing,
And Pushes the clouds tina, begirt his career;
He welcomes the gladness and glory, returning
To rest on the promise and hope Of the year.
lie fills with rich light oil the balm breathing
flowers
He mounts to the zenith, and laughs on the
wave;
He wakes into music the green forest bowers,
And gilds the gay plains which the broad rivers
The young bird is ont on his delicate pinion--
He timidly sails in the infinite sky;
A greeting to May, and her fairy dominion,
he pours on the west winds fragrant sigh;
Around, above, there are peace and pleasure
The woodland is singing-the heaven is bright !;
The fields are unfolding their emerald treasure,
And mans genial spirit is soaring in light.
Alas, for my weary and care.haunted bosom!--
The spells Of the spring time arouse it no more,
The song in the wild wood-the sheen of the
blossom
The fresh swelling fountain-their magic is Ger!
When list to the streams-when look Oh the
flowers,
They tell ofthe Past, with so mournful tone,
That call up the throngs Of my long vanished
hours,
And sigh that their transports are over and gone.
From the wide Spreading earth--from the limit
less heaven,
There have vanished an eloquent glory and
CLEAN;
To my vei'd mind no more Is the influence given,
Which coloreth life with the hues of dream :
The bloom.purpled landscape its loneliness
keepeth--
deem that's light as Of old gilds the wave;--
But the eye Of my spirit in heaviness sleepetb,
Or sees but my youth and the visions it gave.
Yet notthat age on my years has descended
'Jis not that its snow-wreaths encircled my
brow;
But the uewness and sweetness of Being are
ended
I feel not their love .kindling witchery now:
The shadows Of death DER my path have been
sweeping
There are those who have loved me, debarred
from the day;
The green turf is bright where npeacs they IRE
sleeping,
And on wings Of remembrance my soul isaway
Tits shut to the glow Of this present existence
1t hears, from the Past, funeral strain:
And it eagerly tuns to the highseeming distance
Where the last blooms of earth will be garnered
again;
Where ne mildew the soft damask-rose cheek
shall nourish,
Wheregnef bears nolonger the poisonous sting
Where pitiless Death no dark sceptre can Aounsh
Or stain with his blight the luxuriant spring.
Ills thus, that the hopes, which to others are given
Fall cold on my heart in this rich month ofMay
hear the clear anthems which ring through tn,
heaven
drink the bland airs that enliven the day;
And il gentle Nature, her festival keeping,
Delights not my bosom, ah! do not condemn
Ger the lost and the lovely my spiri! is weeping
For my hearts fondes. raptures are burie'
with them.