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.

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The read more

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.

Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens read more

Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on.

Another May new buds and flowers shall bring:
Ah! why has happiness no second Spring?

Another May new buds and flowers shall bring:
Ah! why has happiness no second Spring?

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!

More matter for a May morning.

More matter for a May morning.

For every marriage then is best in tune,
When that the wife is May, the husband June.

For every marriage then is best in tune,
When that the wife is May, the husband June.

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.

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.