This teen-touched joy, ere birth anoint of thee,
  Yet bears thy chrismal music in her breast.
  Five Mays have come and sped
  Above her sunny head,
And still the happy song abides in her.
  For though on maimed limbs the body creeps,
It doth a spirit house whose pinions stir
  Familiarly the far cerulean steeps
  Where God His mansion keeps.

  So come, O! throstle,
  Thou golden-tongued apostle
And little.brown-frocked brother
  Of the loved Assisian!
Sing courage to the mother,
  Sing strength into the man,
That she who in another May
  Came out of heaven, trailing care,
May never know that sometimes gray
  Earth's roof is and its cupboards bare.
To them in whose sad May-time thou
Sang'st comfort and thy maple bough,
  To tinge the presaged dole with sweet,
O! prophet then, be prophet now
  And paraclete!