Mayday

“ Other months are cold and gray, Some are bright, but what are they? Earth may take the whole eleven-- Hopeful May--happy May! Thine the borrowed month of heaven Cometh thence and points the way. Wingèd minstrels come and play Through the woods their roundelay; Who can tell but only thou, Spirit-ear'd, inspirèd May, On the bud-embow'rèd bough What the happy lyrists say? Is the burden of their lay Love's desire, or Love's decay? Are there not some fond regrets Mix'd with these, divinest May, For the sun that never sets Down the everlasting day? ”

“ There is sense in our First o' May, chummy, hope from our First o' May.
The Governments are a-gog, brother, Figaro owns as much;
Property quakes when the countless hands of Labour are in touch.
And from Bermondsey to Budapest they are in touch to-day,
Linked for the Feast of May, brother, linked for the Feast of May!
So we must wake and turn out early, bright and early, comrade, dear;
To-morrow'll be the grandest day of all the green New Year;
To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest merriest day,
For Toil's to be Queen o' the May, brother. Labour is Queen o' th's May! ”

“ The grass was green and soft, and the birds rose through the air on fluttering wings, singing and rejoicing, and the clouds floated over them as only clouds in May can float, quickly, hopefully, with a dash of changeful April in them—not like those of August: for the May cloud is a maiden, a child, full of life and joy, running and playing, and looking playfully back at the winds as they rustle on—not August-like—a thoughtful ripened beauty, large, lazy, and contemplative, whose spring of youth has passed, whose summer has arrived, in all its wealth, and power, and languid splendor. ”

“ When May was young; ah, pleasant May!
As yet the poppies were not born
Between the blades of tender corn;
The last eggs had not hatched as yet,
Nor any bird forgone its mate.
I cannot tell you what it was;
But this I know: it did but pass. 10
It passed away with sunny May,
With all sweet things it passed away,
And left me old, and cold, and grey.
A PAUSE OF THOUGHT I looked for that which is not, nor can be,
And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth:
But years must pass before a hope of youth
Is resigned utterly. ”

“ When May has spent its little song, And richer comes the June, Through former eyes the heart will long For May again in tune; Though large with promise hope may be, By future visions cast, Our memoried thoughts will yearn to see The happy little past. ”

“ The rose-hued colors of the May,
And May was all her universe.
And then he left her: and, like blood,
In her deep hair, the rose; whose bud
Was badge to her: while unto him,
His middle-age, must still remain
The red-leaf, withering at the rim,
As symbol of the all-in-vain.
III
“Such days as these,” she said, and bent
Among her marigolds, all dew,
And dripping zinnia stems, “were meant
For spring not autumn; days we knew
In childhood; these endearing those;
Much dearer since they have grown old:
Days, once imperfect with the rose,
Now perfect with the marigold.” ”

“ See graceful limbs of May
Revealed to glow.
Were we in May now, think
What wealth she has;
The dog-tooth violets pink,
Wind-flowers like glass,
About the wood brook's brink
Dark sassafras.
[Pg 24]
Nights, which the large stars strew
Heav'n on heav'n rolled,
Nights, whose feet flash with dew,
Whose long locks hold
Aromas cool and new,
A moon's curved gold. ”

“ Heavenly thou art, nor less should be-- O lovely May! O long'd-for May! The favour'd forms that wait on thee. The moss to guard thy feet is spread, The wreaths are woven for thy head, The rosy curtains of thy bed Become transparent in the blaze Of the strong sun's resistless gaze: Then lady, make no more delay, The world still lives, though spring be dead-- O lovely May! O long'd-for May! And thou must rule and reign instead. The lady from her bed arose, Her bed the leaves the moss-bud blows Herself a lily in that rose ”

“ It is not always cold on a May-day even in the north of England. I have a vivid remembrance of at least one which was most balmy; and, when they are warm enough for out-door enjoyment, the early days of the year seem, like the early hours of the day, to have an exquisite freshness peculiarly their own. Then the month of May, as a whole, is certainly the month of flowers in the woods and fields. Autumn is the gayest season of the garden, but Spring and early Summer give us the prettiest of the wild-flowers. ”

“ It is to May and June what “sweet fifteen,” in the age of woman, is to the passion-stricken eighteen, and perfect two-and-twenty. It is to the confirmed Summer, what the previous hope of joy is to the full fruition—what the boyish dream of love is to love itself. It is, indeed, the month of promises—and what are twenty performances compared with one promise? April, then, is worth two Mays, because it tells tales of May in every sigh that it breathes, and every tear that it lets fall. ”

“ May is the most beautiful of all months. Then it is, that all nature seems to awaken from its winter slumbers. The grass springs up, the little birds sing and chirp, and display their beautiful plumage. ”

“ May you, who, flankt about with flowers, Will plight your faith to-day, Hold, evermore enthroned, the love Which you have crowned in May; And Time will sleep upon his scythe, The swallow rest his wing, Seeing that you at autumntide Still clasp the hands of spring. ”

“ Stir not a clout, Till May be out, would seem to prove that in ancient times, as well as at present, May was by no means so genial a month, as it has pleased certain personages to represent it. Nevertheless, we know that every now and then in May, comes in a warm and summer-like day, bright, and soft, and beautiful, full of a tempered sunshine, appearing after the cold days of winter, like joy succeeding sorrow, and entendered by the memories of the past, such was the sort of day upon which the traveller we have spoken of rode on upon his way through a very fair and smiling country. ”

“ A soft May moon steals above the eastern horizon, and gilds with radiant luster the brow of night. Gentle May zephyrs from their airy home glide over the earth, kissing the lips of the rose, and the tender cheek of the hedge-row violet. Young and tender May leaves whisper to each other tales of love, away, away, in the dark old forests. ”

“ In May, when every lusty heart flourisheth and bourgeoneth,—for as winter, with its rough winds and blasts, causes man and woman to cover and sit fast by the fire, this fresh and joyous season brings them forth to gladden in the coming of the flowery summer,—in this rare month of May, when only merry thoughts and gentle deeds should be known, there began a great and unhappy season of wrath, which ended not till the flower of chivalry of all the world was destroyed. ”

“ MAY May has come in with gleams of sunshine and gusty fits of tears: half the time that one is out-of-doors, one is being soaked; the other half, being dried by the sun and the boisterousness of west wind. The heavens, indeed, are like some wayward woman, scolding and stormy, then suddenly showing the divinest tenderness. ”

“ May is here, the air is full of the greenness of leaves and the songs of birds, the lank rose trees are budding on the Gothic walls, and when I breathe the fragrant air and look about me I rub my eyes, and wonder whether May was ever so beautiful at home. ”

“ Then let us welcome pleasant spring,
And still the flowery tribute bring,
And still to thee our carol sing,
O lovely May!
Mrs. Hemans.
JUNE.
Come, June! and with beauty fill the earth.
Long have we waited for thy clear blue sky;
Though May is sweet she lacks thy constancy,
And chilly winds oft break the glad world's mirth. ”

“ The unrepealable law Consumed the living while the dead decayed. No more, no more thro’ glorious nights of May We wander, chasing pleasure as of old. First night of May! and the soft-silvered moon Brightens her semicircle in the blue; And ’mid the tawny orange of the west Shines the full star that ushers in the even! [30] On the low meadows by the Luggie-side Gathers a semi-lucent mist, and creeps In busy silence, shrouding golden furze And leafy copsewood. Thro’ the tortuous dell Like an eternal sound the Luggie flows In unreposing melody. ”

“ These little people were all in their cleanest white frocks and prettiest hats: they clung to each other and to their garlands and staves of flowers until the tangled mob reminded one of a May-Day fete. Not that any English May Day of my acquaintance could produce such a lavish profusion of roses and buds and blossoms of every [pg 622] hue and tint, to say nothing of such a sun and sky. ”

“ Every time he lunches out on Sunday—at dinner parties and tea parties—there will be this same shock—horror—discomfort—then pleasure, for he draws into him at every step as he walks by the river such steady certainty, such reassurance from all sides, the trees bowing, the grey spires soft in the blue, voices blowing and seeming suspended in the air, the springy air of May, the elastic air with its particles—chestnut bloom, pollen, whatever it is that gives the May air its potency, blurring the trees, gumming the buds, daubing the green. ”

“ It was the month of May—that sweet season when all nature seems to submit itself to the tender inclinings of love; when not only the shy birds of the air, but the chased creatures of the earth—alike tamed and emboldened by its influence—stray beyond the safety of their coverts in pursuit of those pleasures at other seasons denied them. ”

“ You should see the sun come up on a May morning. The dawn is always a wonderful sight, but never at other times attended with quite the glory, with quite the music, with quite the sweet fragrance, with quite the wonder of a morning in May. ”

“ Too wonderful the April night,
Too faintly sweet the first May flowers,
The stars too gloriously bright,
For me to spend the evening hours,
When fields are fresh and streams are leaping,
Wearied, exhausted, dully sleeping. ”

“ When such things are, this world too soon,
For me, doth wear the veil of Night.
Contents
In May
Yes, I will spend the livelong day
With Nature in this month of May;
And sit beneath the trees, and share
My bread with birds whose homes are there;
While cows lie down to eat, and sheep
Stand to their necks in grass so deep;
While birds do sing with all their might,
As though they felt the earth in flight.
This is the hour I dreamed of, when
I sat surrounded by poor men;
And thought of how the Arab sat
Alone at evening, gazing at
The stars that bubbled in clear skies ”

“ Now that thou art come again, We perchance may make thee stay. Welcome, May! welcome, May! Everything kept holiday Save the human heart alone. Mirthful May! gladsome May! We had cares and thou hadst none When thou camest last this way! When thou camest last this way Blossoms bloomed on every spray, Buds on barren boughs were born-- Fertile May! fruitful May! Like the rose upon the thorn Cannot grief awhile be gay? 'Tis not for the golden ray, Or the flowers that strew thy way, O immortal One! thou art Here to-day, gentle May-- 'Tis to man's ungrateful heart That thy fairy footsteps stray. ”

“ Birds are merry and the buds Come along with May: Lonely is the linden land For lads that went today. What calls the May of song But the fair young spring? Heard our boys another tune Sterner voices sing. Bugles blew by land and sea, And the tocsin drum; See, brave hearts go down the hill, Shouting, "Hail, we come." From the towers that show the Cross, Staunch the Flag waved out, And the royal Purple shook Joyous with the shout. ”

“ Two of the most interesting of these flower-formed acquaintances, were my little friends Harry and Bessy Leigh.
Every year I go to the Everley woods to gather wild lilies of the valley. It is one of the delights that May—the charming, ay, and the merry month of May, which I love as fondly as ever that bright and joyous season was loved by our older poets—regularly brings in her train; one of those rational pleasures in which (and it is the great point of superiority over pleasures that are artificial and worldly) there is no disappointment. ”

“ For the May bloometh fair, And there's little of care, And plenty to eat in the Maytime rare. When the flowers all die, Then off he will fly, To keep himself warm In some jolly old barn Where the snow and the wind neither chill him nor harm. "And such is the life of the strolling friar, With aplenty to eat and to drink; For the goodwife will keep him a seat by the fire, And the pretty girls smile at his wink. Then he lustily trolls As he onward strolls, A rollicking song for the saving of souls. ”

“ O' eerie dull and pain,
And pines to gang the gate, sweet May,
That its first luve hath gane!
Although the form is here, sweet May,
The spirit is na sae;
It wanders to anither land—
A far and lonely way. ”

“ We pull our wrappings about us and go home. April past, we then fancy that her older sister, May, beautiful in literary imagery—for do we not recall descriptive visions of May days of long ago, when the human blossoms danced about the May pole, lolled luxuriantly in the soft, tender grass, hid themselves in the deep-leaved trees, and at last gratified our imaginations with the belief that she is altogether perfect? ”

“ One of the rarest treasures of the May time is the richness and purity of the sky. The winter wraps the heavens in robes of somber hue as though in mourning for the summer dead; but at the coming of the first white cloud, and sound of first lark’s song, the sky seems to melt in tenderness, and assume the softest, richest hue of blue. ”

“ The May of the poet, that is to say, which smiles upon us twice or thrice in a decade, not the May of actuality which is spent in overcoats and blighted hopes, and bad tempers and east winds. But there are Mays even yet like those of the invincible tradition, and just enough of them to save the face of the poet. ”