Classic Poem

I

How May doth call us with her sweetest voice,
Fragrant with blossoms on this moonlit night!
" Take of my wine, and in new birth rejoice;
Leave care and toil, the sordid city's plight.
Oh, dying Man, come to the source of Life,
And hush in Nature all the sounds of strife. "

II

Wondrous the vision, and we fain would go
But that a nobler pleasure calls us here.
Charm, Nature, as thou wilt, thou canst not throw
A spell to win us like the smile and tear,
In what Love, Friendship, Duty, Service can,
We know God's greatest miracle is Man.