 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
MAYING.
In the sweet time of May,
When fields and woods are gay,
And large and little flowers are all a-blooming,
I think that thou must find
This true, if thou but mind:
Pleasure is either past, or else a-coming.
When fields and woods are gay,
And large and little flowers are all a-blooming,
I think that thou must find
This true, if thou but mind:
Pleasure is either past, or else a-coming.
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When merry birds do crowd
The branches, singing loud—
The black, the bluebird—he of scarlet feather—
And tender, brown-eyed doves,
Make dole to tell their loves,
And winds and waters talk and laugh together;
The branches, singing loud—
The black, the bluebird—he of scarlet feather—
And tender, brown-eyed doves,
Make dole to tell their loves,
And winds and waters talk and laugh together;
When bees about their hives
Are working for their lives,
When with his shadow every leaf is dancing,
While from the land, the sea
For very joy doth be
Retiring now, and now again advancing;
Are working for their lives,
When with his shadow every leaf is dancing,
While from the land, the sea
For very joy doth be
Retiring now, and now again advancing;
When not a cloud be spied
The blue of heaven to hide,
And not a lamb of all the flock be straying,
I think if thou art fair,
Thou still must needs declare
'T is not our birthright here to go a-Maying.
The blue of heaven to hide,
And not a lamb of all the flock be straying,
I think if thou art fair,
Thou still must needs declare
'T is not our birthright here to go a-Maying.
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |