When the May-blossoms break Forth from their myriad sheaths and seta mass Of softest snow adrift o'er springing grass Tu many a fairy flake When, gladlier, day by day The young year wakes in wonder on the bills, Binding his brow with gold of daffodils, "Then will we surely say:—"Already in the loom Fair dowers, fashioned all of silken thread, Grew into beauty ere they twain should wed Then fell the evil doom.
"The unseen Fates that far Weave and destroy our web have his undone, Princess bereaved whose thread wish yours was one, Set is his rising star."
So, where the roses spring, Or where the grey-green thistles' armed band Guard the dear heather of the Northern land, And where the shamrocks cling, For your great sorrow'ssake, 'Though the Spring airs blow soft and skies be blue, There is no woman but will' weep with you When the May-blossoms break.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.