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Show To the Queen of the Maytime. By Arthur Barry, in Ave Maria. A song tonight for the Queen of my heart and of others the wide world o'er, For the rarest of maids ever troubadour trouba-dour hymned or plumed knight bowed before; A song that love shall waft above to the land of each leal heart's quest, And lay at her feet, Our Lady sweet, the Queen of the Maytime blest. Not a breath of Spring blows soft o'er the lea but murmurs her gracious gra-cious name, Not an opening bud peeps shyly forth but avows her sovereign claim; And his liquid notes as the song-bird floats full blithe through the ether attest That with joy all greet Our Lady sweet, the Queen of the May-time May-time blest. But softer by far than balmiest breeze, more grateful than flowers flow-ers of May, To our Mother fair are the sights of love we breathe at her shrine each day; Are the pledges we give that while we live, through trouble and all unrest, Our hearts will yet beat for Our Lady sweet, the Queen of the May-time May-time blest. A song tonight that I fain would sing all nights and days of the year, A hymn of praise and of glowing love to my Heavenly Mother dear; A song and a prayer for her shielding care till my life hath reached its crest, And I go to meet Our Lady sweet, the Queen of the Maytime blest. |