IN THE GLAD MONTH OF MAY
Reading edition
In the glad month of May,
When morning was breaking,
She rose from her body
And vanished away.
From a tree cloaked in gray
A shrill bird kept calling,
"Come quick. God is waiting.
He cannot delay."
We had no heart to pray,
But, seeing her glory,
Said, "Go, little sister;
God needs you to-day."
Very stilly she lay:
The bird had ceased calling—
We let in the morning
And kissed her dear clay.