Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;
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.
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No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came read more
No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.
O May, sweet-voice one, going thus before,
Forever June may pour her warm red wine
Of life read more
O May, sweet-voice one, going thus before,
Forever June may pour her warm red wine
Of life and passions,--sweeter days are thine!
Among the changing months, May stands confest
The sweetest, and in fairest colors dressed.
Among the changing months, May stands confest
The sweetest, and in fairest colors dressed.
Ah! my heart is weary waiting,
Waiting for the May:
Waiting for the pleasant rambles
read more
Ah! my heart is weary waiting,
Waiting for the May:
Waiting for the pleasant rambles
Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles,
Where the woodbine alternating,
Scent the dewy way;
Ah! my heart is weary, waiting,
Waiting for the May.
O month when they who love must love and wed.
O month when they who love must love and wed.
Spring's last-born darling, clear-eyed, sweet,
Pauses a moment, with white twinkling feet,
And golden locks in breezy read more
Spring's last-born darling, clear-eyed, sweet,
Pauses a moment, with white twinkling feet,
And golden locks in breezy play,
Half teasing and half tender, to repeat
Her song of "May."
When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.
And burns in meadow-grass the read more
When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.
And burns in meadow-grass the phlox
His torch of purple fire:
. . . .
And when the punctual May arrives,
With cowslip-garland on her brow,
We know what once she gave our lives,
And cannot give us now!
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the
May.
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the
May.
May, queen of blossoms,
And fulfilling flowers,
With what pretty music
Shall we charm read more
May, queen of blossoms,
And fulfilling flowers,
With what pretty music
Shall we charm the hours?
Wilt thou have pipe and reed,
Blown in the open mead?
Or to the lute give heed
In the green bowers.
