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: When buds have burst the silver sheath, And shifting pink, and gray, and gold Steal o'er the woods, while fair beneath The bloomy vales unfold: When, emerald-bright, the hemlock stands New-feathered, needled new the pine; And, exiles from the orient lands, The turbaned tulips shine: When wild azaleas deck the knoll, And cinque-foil stars the fields of home, And winds, that take the white-weed, roll The meadows into foam: Then from the jubilee I turn To other Mays that I have seen, Where more resplendent blossoms burn, And statelier woods are green; -- Mays, when my heart expanded first, A honeyed blossom, fresh with dew; And one sweet wind of heaven dispersed The only clouds I knew. For she, whose softly-murmured name The music of the month expressed, Walked by my side, in holy shame Of girlish love confessed. The budding chestnuts overhead, Their sprinkled shadows in the lane, -- Blue flowers along the brooklet's bed, -- I see them all again! The old, old tale of girl and boy, Repeated ever, never old: To each in turn the gates of joy, The gates of heaven unfold. 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GIRL IN A CAGE by CARL SANDBURG ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL by JOHN BYROM TO MARY UNWIN by WILLIAM COWPER TO MY NOSE by ALFRED HENRY FORRESTER THE SONG OF THE SHIRT by THOMAS HOOD THE KISS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR |