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James Whitcomb Riley - Elizabeth
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_May 1, 1891_.

  I.

  Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!
  The first May-morning whispereth
  Thy gentle name in every breeze
  That lispeth through the young-leaved trees,
  New raimented in white and green
  Of bloom and leaf to crown thee queen;--
  And, as in odorous chorus, all
  The orchard-blossoms sweetly call
  Even as a singing voice that saith
      Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!

  II.

  Elizabeth!  Lo, lily-fair,
  In deep, cool shadows of thy hair,
  Thy face maintaineth its repose.--
  Is it, O sister of the rose,
  So better, sweeter, blooming thus
  Than in this briery world with us?--
    Where frost o`ertaketh, and the breath
    Of biting winter harrieth
  With sleeted rains and blighting snows
      All fairest blooms--Elizabeth!

  III.

  Nay, then!--So reign, Elizabeth,
  Crowned, in thy May-day realm of death!
  Put forth the scepter of thy love
  In every star-tipped blossom of
  The grassy dais of thy throne!
  Sadder are we, thus left alone,
  But gladder they that thrill to see
  Thy mother`s rapture, greeting thee.
    Bereaved are we by life--not death--
      Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!
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