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.

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!

But winter lingering chills the lap of May.

But winter lingering chills the lap of May.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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!

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.