<h2><SPAN name="page129"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>OVER THE MAY HILL</h2>
<p class="poetry">All through the night time, and all through the
day time,<br/>
Dreading the morning and dreading the night,<br/>
Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time<br/>
Season of beauty and season of blight,<br/>
Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow,<br/>
Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere,<br/>
Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow,<br/>
Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.</p>
<p class="poetry">Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are
cheery,<br/>
Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens,<br/>
Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary—<br/>
Too well I know what that weariness means.<br/>
But how could I know in the crisp winter weather<br/>
(Though sometimes I noticed a catch in your
breath),<br/>
Riding and singing and dancing together,<br/>
How could I know you were racing with death?</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page130"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
130</span>How could I know when we danced until morning,<br/>
And you were the gayest of all the gay
crowd—<br/>
With only that shortness of breath for a warning,<br/>
How could I know that you danced for a shroud?<br/>
Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight.<br/>
Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave,<br/>
Down in your eyes shone a deep light—a far light,<br/>
How could I know ’twas the light to your
grave?</p>
<p class="poetry">Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing,<br/>
Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom,<br/>
Cometh the shape and the shadow I’m fearing,<br/>
“Over the May hill” is waiting your
tomb.<br/>
The season of mirth and of music is over—<br/>
I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last
song,<br/>
Under the violets, under the clover,<br/>
My heart and my love will be lying ere long</p>
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