A Madrigal

By Kate Seymour Maclean

The lily-bells ring underground, Their music small I hear When globes of dew that shine pearl round Hang in the cowslip's ear And all the summer blooms and sprays Are sheathed from the sun, And yet I feel in many ways Their living pulses run. The crowning rose of summer time Lies folded on its stem, Its bright urn holds no honey-wine, Its brow no diadem, And yet my soul is inly thrilled, As if I stood anear Some legal presence unrevealed, The queen of all the year. Oh Rose, dear Rose! the mist and dew Uprising from the lake, And sunshine glancing warmly through, Have kissed the flowers awake-- The orchard blooms are dropping balm, The tulip's gorgeous cup More slender than a desert palm It's chalice lifteth up. The birds are mated in the trees, The wan stars burn and pale-- Oh Rose, come forth!--upon the breeze I hear the nightingale Unfold the crimson waves that lie In darkness rosy dim, And swing thy fragrant censer high, Oh royal Rose for him! The hyacinths are in the fields With purple splendours pale Their sweet bells ring responsive peals To every passing gale And violets bending in the grass Do hide their glowing eyes, When those enchanting voices pass, Like airs from Paradise. We crowned our blushing Queen of May Long since, with dance and tune, But the merry world of yesterday Is lapsing into June-- Thou art not here,--we look in vain-- Oh Rose arise, appear!-- Resume thine emerald throne, and reign The queen of all the year!