In the Glad Month of May / Coningsby Dawson

In the Glad Month of May

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.

~~
Coningsby Dawson (1883-1959)
from A Vision of Florence, and other poems, 1916

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Coningsby Dawson biography