Explore "May-Time" by Annie Fellows Johnston on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE Spring steals through the city streets, / Silent and shrinking, half afraid, / As if there came, from woods and fields, / Some timid, bashful, country maid.
The lofty houses coldly frown, / And coldly stares the stony street; / But here and there from out a cleft / There springs a flower to kiss her feet.
And here and there a crocus smiles / A friendly greeting, or a spray / Of blooming lilacs, fresh and sweet, / Leans down and nods across her way.
Till, reassured, she smiles and sings, / And on she passes, glad and fleet, / And little children at their play / Look up to catch her glances sweet.
Is it her robe's soft fluttering / That gently fans the passer by? / He only feels the freshened air, / Nor knows the gracious presence nigh.
But some sweet influence he feels, / That charms care's gloomy shade away, / And pours into his wakened heart / The golden gladness of the May.
So, like an angel visitant, / She glides among the haunts of men, / And faint hearts bound, and sad eyes smile, / Because the Spring has come again.