Classic Poem

Full fair and sweet the month of May,
The blooming season of the year;
And fair and sweet and ever dear,
Are early may blooms on the spray.
But sweeter still our fair young " May,"
The dear and heavenly-minded maid,
Who bloomed awhile, too soon to fade,
And now has turn'd to night our day.
Few-year'd she faded from our sight,
And never saw life's winter day;
And gone to bloom in heaven's light,
Is now still fairer, and for aye.