As I look back, other May-days throng upon my mind. The memories of some
of these are sad, yea, very sad! One was the birth-day of a little one
who now rests beneath the green sod. And well do I remember another
bright May morning, when I wandered out over the hill, holding the hand
of a little fair-haired child within my own. Her tiny basket was filled
with flowers the children had given her, and her bright, sunny face was
radiant with smiles. That was her first May-day walk, and much did the
little being enjoy it.

It was her last! Ere the spring breezes came again, she lay within her
little shroud. The snows of winter fell silently upon her little grave,
by the side of him who had gone before, and, ere another May-day, the
sod was green above them.

These are the memories that come over me when I look out upon the
revellers; yet just as well do I love to see them at their sports, and I
can look upon their light, graceful forms, and hear their merry
laughter; and, though my heart goes to the grave-yard and mine eyes rest
upon the spot, yet I can smile upon the gay, living creatures before me,
for I know that childhood is a glad and joyous thing, and that these
beings are the light and joy of some homes, and I pray that these homes
may be never darkened by Death's shadow crossing the threshold.

These my May-day reveries have begun lightly, and ended, as May-days
themselves have done, in sad thoughts. But sad thoughts and life's
troubles are, or ought to be, the heart's discipline. For this purpose
do they come to us, and we should go forth from them purer and better.