I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand,-and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it-oh! to Whom?
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

10

THE FRESH AIR

THE fresh air moves like water round a boat.
The white clouds wander. Let us wander too.

The whining, wavering plover flap and float.

That crow is flying after that cuckoo.

Look! Look! . . . They're gone. What are the great trees calling?

Just come a little farther, by that edge

Of green, to where the stormy ploughland, falling
Wave upon wave, is lapping to the hedge.

Oh, what a lovely bank! Give me your hand.

Lie down and press your heart against the ground. Let us both listen till we understand,

Each through the other, every natural sound

I can't hear anything to-day, can you,
But, far and near: "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"?

11

WEATHERS

HAROLD MONRO

THIS is the weather the cuckoo likes,

And so do I;

When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly:

And the little brown nightingale bills his best,
And they sit outside at "The Travellers' Rest,"

And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,

And citizens dream of the south and west,

And so do I.

12

This is the weather the shepherd shuns,

And so do I;

When beeches drip in browns and duns,
And thresh, and ply;

And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,
And meadow rivulets overflow,

And drops on gate-bars hang in a row,
And rooks in families homeward go,

And so do I.

THOMAS HARDY

GREEN RAIN

INTO the scented woods we'll go,
And see the blackthorn swim in snow.
High above, in the budding leaves,
A brooding dove awakes and grieves;
The glades with mingled music stir,
And wildly laughs the woodpecker.
When blackthorn petals pearl the breeze,
There are the twisted hawthorne trees
Thick-set with buds, as clear and pale
As golden water or green hail—
As if a storm of rain had stood
Enchanted in the thorny wood,

And, hearing fairy voices call,
Hung poised, forgetting how to fall.

MARY WEBB

13

SONG ON MAY MORNING
Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip and the pale Primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth and youth and young desire,

14

Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill and Dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early Song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

SISTER, AWAKE!

SISTER, awake! close not your eyes.

The day her light discloses,
And the bright morning doth arise
Out of her bed of roses.

JOHN MILTON

See the clear sun, the world's bright eye,

In at our window peeping:

Lo, how he blusheth to espy
Us idle wenches sleeping!

Therefore awake! make haste, I say,
And let us, without staying,
All in our gowns of green so gay
Into the park a-maying.

15

16

HERE WE COME A-PIPING

HERE we come a-piping,

In Springtime and in May;

Green fruit a-ripening,

And Winter fled away.

The Queen she sits upon the strand,

Fair as lily, white as wand;

Seven billows on the sea,

Horses riding fast and free,

And bells beyond the sand.

AS WE DANCE ROUND

As we dance round a-ring-a-ring,

A maiden goes a-maying;

And here a flower, and there a flower,
Through mead and meadow straying:
O gentle one, why dost thou weep?—
Silver to spend with; gold to keep;
Till spin the green round World asleep,
And Heaven its dews be staying.

17

OLD MAY SONG

ALL in this pleasant evening, together come are we,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
We tell you of a blossoming and buds on every tree,
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.

Rise up, the master of this house, put on your charm of gold,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
Be not in pride offended with your name we make so bold,
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.

Rise up, the mistress of this house, with gold along your breast;

For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay; And if your body be asleep, we hope your soul's at rest, Drawing near unto the merry month of May.

Rise up, the children of this house, all in your rich attire,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
And every hair upon your heads shines like the silver wire:
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.

God bless this house and arbour, your riches and your store,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
We hope the Lord will prosper you, both now and evermore,
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.

And now comes we must leave you, in peace and plenty here,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;

We shall not sing you May again until another year,
To draw you these cold winters away.

18

19

SONG OF THE MAYERS

REMEMBER us poor Mayers all,

And thus do we begin,

To lead our lives in righteousness,
Or else we die in sin.

We have been rambling all the night,
And almost all the day,

And now returning back again,

We have brought you a bunch of May.

A bunch of May we have brought you,
And at your door it stands,

It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out
By the work of our Lord's hands.

The hedges and trees they are so green,
As green as any leek,

Our Heavenly Father, He watered them
With his heavenly dew so sweet.

The heavenly gates are open wide,
Our paths are beaten plain,
And if a man be not too far gone,
He may return again.

The life of man is but a span,

It flourishes like a flower;

We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow,

And are dead in an hour.

The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light,

A little before it is day,

God bless you all, both great and small,

And send you a joyful May.

AND AS FOR ME

. . AND as for me, thogh that I can but lyte, 1

On bokes for to rede I me delyte,

1 Know but little