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For it ne sits not unto fresh May
Forto be coupled to cold January.
For it ne sits not unto fresh May
Forto be coupled to cold January.
In the under-wood and the over-wood
There is murmur and trill this day,
For every bird is read more
In the under-wood and the over-wood
There is murmur and trill this day,
For every bird is in lyric mood,
And the wind will have its way.
Who first beholds the light of day
In Spring's sweet flowery month of May
And wears an read more
Who first beholds the light of day
In Spring's sweet flowery month of May
And wears an Emerald all her life,
Shall be a loved and happy wife.
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."
Hebe's here, May is here!
The air is fresh and sunny;
And the miser-bees are busy
read more
Hebe's here, May is here!
The air is fresh and sunny;
And the miser-bees are busy
Hoarding golden honey.
There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury,
exceeds her as much in beauty as the read more
There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury,
exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last
of December.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
All furnished, all in arms;
All plum'd like estridges that with the wind
Bated like eagles having read more
All furnished, all in arms;
All plum'd like estridges that with the wind
Bated like eagles having lately bathed;
Glittering in golden coats like images;
As full of spirit as the month of May
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
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.