New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1847-05-01
NETWORK TRIBUNE.
MAY.

MAY.
~ The following beautiful Lines are from the per
At die late lsmented WILLIS GAYLoED CLARK TheJ
breathe the very odor Of Spring and the touching ten
derpess of a sensitive and feeling heart
Tu Springs scented buds all around me are swelling
There the streams there sheath 10 the gale
sense Of delight In each bosom is dwelling
AZ float the pure day beams Der mountain and vale;
The desolste reign of Old Winter is broken,
ne verdure is fresh upon every tree
OF Nature revival the chsTm-and a token
0fove, oh thou Spirit Of Beauty to thee.
The sun ooke,h forth from the halls of the morning
And Pushes the clouds that begrt his career;
He welcomes the glsdness and glory, returning
To rest on the promise and hope OF the year.
He Oils with rich light all the Misunderstanding howers
lie mounts to the zenith, and laughs on tho wave.
He wakes into music the green forest blowers,
And glds the gay plaus which the broad rivers lave
The young bird is out on his delicate pinion-
He timdly sails in the infinite sky;
A greeting to May, and her fairy dominion,
He pours on the westwind's fragrant sigh
Around, above, there are peace and pleasure,
The woodlands are singing. the heaven 10 bright
The fields unfolding their emerald treasure,
And mans genial spirit 10 soaring in light
Alsa 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 welling fountain, their magic is DER
When list to the streams. when look on the flowers
They tell Of the Past with so mOurnful a tone,
That call up the throngs of my long vanished hours,
And sigh that their transports are over and gone.
From the wdespresdiDg earth from the limiess heaven
There have vanished eloquent glory and CLEAN
To my yelled mind no more Is the influence given,
Which cooreth life with the hues of a dream;
The ompurped landscape its loneliness keepeth-
deem that light as Of old gilds the wave
But the eye of my spirit In heaviness sleepeth,
On sees but my youth. and the visions it gave.
Yet 1t 10 not that age my years hath descended,
7 lie not that It's snow wreaths enciICle my brow,
But the and sweetness Of Being ended,
| feel not their love kindling witchery now
The shadows Of death DER my path have been sweeping
There are those who have loved me debsrred from
the day;
The green turf light where 10 peace they sleeping
And on wings of remembrance my soul is away.
u - shut to the glow of this present existence.
IL hears from the Past, funereal strain
And II eagerly turns to the high seeming distance,
Where the last blooms OF earth will gsrnered again
Where mildew the soft damask rose cheek shall
nourish,
Where Grief bears no longer the poisonous sting;
Where pitess Death no dark sceptre can flourish
Or stain with his blight the luxurisnt Spring.
II b thus that the hopes which to others given
Fall cold on my heart in this rich month OF May
hear the clear anthems that ring through the heaven,
! drink the bland airs that enliven the day
And II gentle Nature, her festival keeping,
Delights not my bosom, alb do not condemn,
Der the lost and the lovely my spirit is weeping,
For my hearts ondest rapures are buried with them