Августа Вебстер (Augusta Webster)

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YOUNG May sat fainting and chill,
    And neither could live nor die;
    She looked and hated the sky,
Yet knew not what was her ill.
Ah well-a-day!
For the lonely May.

She tired of weeping, and slept;
    Who woke her up but the Sun?
    And joy and love had begun
To teach her why she had wept
Oh bright new day
For the startled May!