Classic Poem

'Twas May, and we had heard to ring
A summer Sunday's mellow chimes,
And knelt in pray'r, and stood to sing,
In Shelton Church two happy times.
And evening skylight, glowing red,
From where the sun began to sink,
Through fresh'ning air so softly shed
Upon your white a blush of pink,
As came in May
The soft outdying of the day.

To some that day had been their first,
To some its morning was their last,
To some it may have seem'd their worst,
To some their best, and flew too fast.
To me it was a day of hope,
And seem'd of all my days the best,
As here I stood on this hill slope,
And looking onward to the west
I saw in May
The soft outdying of the day.

But yet a something came to smite,
With sudden pain, a thoughtful mind,
For neighbour folk, who lost, that night,
Some dearest soul of all their kind;
The sounding of the bell that toll'd
Above a husband's hanging head,
Whose faithful mate, though far from old,
From all the summer ground had fled
That hour in May,
The soft outdying of her day.

And yet the swimming air, that brought
The doleful sound o'er evening dew,
Became my air of speaking thought,
Wherewith I worded love to you.
And oh! may all the winds that blow,
O'er all the houses, bear along
Still few and fewer sounds of woe,
And more and more of joy and song
From May to May,
Until our last outdying day.