 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
POESY A MAYING
Now comes the bonny May dancing & skipping
Across the stepping stones of meadow streams
Bearing no kin to april showers a weeping
But constant sunshine as her servant seems
Her heart is up—her sweetness all a maying
Streams in her face like gems on beautys breast
The swains are sighing all & well adaying
Love sick & gazing on their lovely guest
The sunday paths to pleasant places leading
Are graced by couples linking arm in arm
Sweet smiles enjoying or some book a reading
Where love & beauty are the constant charm
For while the bonny May is dancing bye
Beauty delights the ear & beauty fills the eye
Across the stepping stones of meadow streams
Bearing no kin to april showers a weeping
But constant sunshine as her servant seems
Her heart is up—her sweetness all a maying
Streams in her face like gems on beautys breast
The swains are sighing all & well adaying
Love sick & gazing on their lovely guest
The sunday paths to pleasant places leading
Are graced by couples linking arm in arm
Sweet smiles enjoying or some book a reading
Where love & beauty are the constant charm
For while the bonny May is dancing bye
Beauty delights the ear & beauty fills the eye
406
The birds they sing & build & nature scorns
On Mays young festival to keep a widow
There childern too have pleasures all their own
A plucking ladysmocks along the meadow
The little brook sings loud among the pebbles
So very loud that waterflowers which lie
Where many a silver curdle boils & dribbles
Dance too with joy as it goes singing bye
Among the pasture molehills maidens stoop
To pluck the luscious majoram for their bosoms
The greenswards smothered oer with buttercups
& white thorns they are breaking down with blossoms
Tis natures livery for the bonny May
Who keeps her court & all have holiday
On Mays young festival to keep a widow
There childern too have pleasures all their own
A plucking ladysmocks along the meadow
The little brook sings loud among the pebbles
So very loud that waterflowers which lie
Where many a silver curdle boils & dribbles
Dance too with joy as it goes singing bye
Among the pasture molehills maidens stoop
To pluck the luscious majoram for their bosoms
The greenswards smothered oer with buttercups
& white thorns they are breaking down with blossoms
Tis natures livery for the bonny May
Who keeps her court & all have holiday
Princess of months—so natures choice ordains
& lady of the summer still she reigns
In spite of aprils youth who charms in tears
& rosey June who wins with blushing face
July sweet shepherdess who wreaths the shears
Of shepherds with her flowers of winning grace
& suntanned august with her swarthy charms
The beautiful & rich—& pastoral gay
September with her pomp of fields & farms
& wild novembers sybilline array
In spite of beautys calender the year
Garlands with beautys prize the bonny May
Where'er she goes fair nature hath no peer
& months do loose their queen when shes away
& lady of the summer still she reigns
In spite of aprils youth who charms in tears
& rosey June who wins with blushing face
July sweet shepherdess who wreaths the shears
Of shepherds with her flowers of winning grace
& suntanned august with her swarthy charms
The beautiful & rich—& pastoral gay
September with her pomp of fields & farms
& wild novembers sybilline array
In spite of beautys calender the year
Garlands with beautys prize the bonny May
Where'er she goes fair nature hath no peer
& months do loose their queen when shes away
407
Up like a princess starts the merry morning
In draperies of many coloured cloud
& skylarks minstrels of the early dawning
Pipe forth their hearty anthems long & loud
The bright enarmoured sunshine goes a maying
& every flower his laughing eye beguiles
& on the milkmaids rosey face a playing
Pays court to beauty in his softest smiles
For mays divinity of joy begun
Adds life & lustre to the golden sun
& all of life beneath its glory straying
Is by mays beauty into worship won
Till golden eve ennobles all the west
& day goes blushing like a bride to rest
In draperies of many coloured cloud
& skylarks minstrels of the early dawning
Pipe forth their hearty anthems long & loud
The bright enarmoured sunshine goes a maying
& every flower his laughing eye beguiles
& on the milkmaids rosey face a playing
Pays court to beauty in his softest smiles
For mays divinity of joy begun
Adds life & lustre to the golden sun
& all of life beneath its glory straying
Is by mays beauty into worship won
Till golden eve ennobles all the west
& day goes blushing like a bride to rest
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |