_May 1, 1891_. <br /> <br />I. <br /> <br />Elizabeth! Elizabeth! <br />The first May-morning whispereth <br />Thy gentle name in every breeze <br />That lispeth through the young-leaved trees, <br />New raimented in white and green <br />Of bloom and leaf to crown thee queen;-- <br />And, as in odorous chorus, all <br />The orchard-blossoms sweetly call <br />Even as a singing voice that saith <br />Elizabeth! Elizabeth! <br /> <br />II. <br /> <br />Elizabeth! Lo, lily-fair, <br />In deep, cool shadows of thy hair, <br />Thy face maintaineth its repose.-- <br />Is it, O sister of the rose, <br />So better, sweeter, blooming thus <br />Than in this briery world with us?-- <br />Where frost o'ertaketh, and the breath <br />Of biting winter harrieth <br />With sleeted rains and blighting snows <br />All fairest blooms--Elizabeth! <br /> <br />III. <br /> <br />Nay, then!--So reign, Elizabeth, <br />Crowned, in thy May-day realm of death! <br />Put forth the scepter of thy love <br />In every star-tipped blossom of <br />The grassy dais of thy throne! <br />Sadder are we, thus left alone, <br />But gladder they that thrill to see <br />Thy mother's rapture, greeting thee. <br />Bereaved are we by life--not death-- <br />Elizabeth! Elizabeth!<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elizabeth-9/
