JOHN M'PHERSON
SWEET child of an April shower,First gift of spring to Flora's bower,Acadia's own peculiar flower,I hail thee here!Thou com'st, like hope in sorrow's hour,To whisper cheer.I love to stray with careless feet,Thy balm on morning breeze to meet—Thy earliest opening bloom to greet—To take thy stem,And bear thee to my lady sweet,Thou lovely gem.What though green mosses o'er thee steal,And half thy lovely form conceal—Though but thy fragrant breath revealThy place of birth—Gladly I own thy mute appeal,Of modest worth!Thy charms so pure a spell impart,Thy softening smiles so touch my heart,That silent tears of rapture start,Sweet flower of May!E'en while I sing, devoid of art,This simple lay.
SWEET child of an April shower,First gift of spring to Flora's bower,Acadia's own peculiar flower,I hail thee here!Thou com'st, like hope in sorrow's hour,To whisper cheer.I love to stray with careless feet,Thy balm on morning breeze to meet—Thy earliest opening bloom to greet—To take thy stem,And bear thee to my lady sweet,Thou lovely gem.What though green mosses o'er thee steal,And half thy lovely form conceal—Though but thy fragrant breath revealThy place of birth—Gladly I own thy mute appeal,Of modest worth!Thy charms so pure a spell impart,Thy softening smiles so touch my heart,That silent tears of rapture start,Sweet flower of May!E'en while I sing, devoid of art,This simple lay.
SWEET child of an April shower,First gift of spring to Flora's bower,Acadia's own peculiar flower,I hail thee here!Thou com'st, like hope in sorrow's hour,To whisper cheer.
SWEET child of an April shower,
First gift of spring to Flora's bower,
Acadia's own peculiar flower,
I hail thee here!
Thou com'st, like hope in sorrow's hour,
To whisper cheer.
I love to stray with careless feet,Thy balm on morning breeze to meet—Thy earliest opening bloom to greet—To take thy stem,And bear thee to my lady sweet,Thou lovely gem.
I love to stray with careless feet,
Thy balm on morning breeze to meet—
Thy earliest opening bloom to greet—
To take thy stem,
And bear thee to my lady sweet,
Thou lovely gem.
What though green mosses o'er thee steal,And half thy lovely form conceal—Though but thy fragrant breath revealThy place of birth—Gladly I own thy mute appeal,Of modest worth!
What though green mosses o'er thee steal,
And half thy lovely form conceal—
Though but thy fragrant breath reveal
Thy place of birth—
Gladly I own thy mute appeal,
Of modest worth!
Thy charms so pure a spell impart,Thy softening smiles so touch my heart,That silent tears of rapture start,Sweet flower of May!E'en while I sing, devoid of art,This simple lay.
Thy charms so pure a spell impart,
Thy softening smiles so touch my heart,
That silent tears of rapture start,
Sweet flower of May!
E'en while I sing, devoid of art,
This simple lay.