University of Virginia Library


147

The Judgment of the May.

Come to the judgment, golden threads
Upon golden hair in rich array;
Many a chesnut shakes its heads,
Many a lupine at this day,
Many a white rose in our beds
Waits the judgment of the May.
Oh, like white roses, great white queen,
Come to the judgment, come to-day.
The white stars on thy robes of green
Are like white roses on trees in May:
By me thy stars and flowers are seen,
But now thou seemest far away.