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63
MAYING.
TO MAIA.
Now is the merry month of May;
And birds on every tree are telling
The pleasures of their leafy dwelling,
Singing many a roundelay!
And birds on every tree are telling
The pleasures of their leafy dwelling,
Singing many a roundelay!
Hark! how the jocund rebecs sound;—
Oh merry, merry month of May,—
Thy sward invites the limbs to lye,
And hear the pleasant bells ring round.
Oh merry, merry month of May,—
Thy sward invites the limbs to lye,
And hear the pleasant bells ring round.
Now trips the morris to and fro,
The while Dan Robin strains his throat,
And drowns the cuckoo's warning note;
Come let us all a maying go!
The while Dan Robin strains his throat,
And drowns the cuckoo's warning note;
Come let us all a maying go!
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How fresh the flowers, how bright, how gay!
The sprites, who have the garden's care,
Have left their own sweet breathings there,
To charm our lovely queen of May!
The sprites, who have the garden's care,
Have left their own sweet breathings there,
To charm our lovely queen of May!
Gracia, our queen of May art thou!
And never yet was earthly queen,
Or queen of Fays, more lovely seen,
Or worthier of each summer vow!
And never yet was earthly queen,
Or queen of Fays, more lovely seen,
Or worthier of each summer vow!
And, oh! if still you constant prove,
Sweet meed for every tear and sigh,
May soon will August prove, and I
Reap the rich harvest of my love!
Sweet meed for every tear and sigh,
May soon will August prove, and I
Reap the rich harvest of my love!
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