 | The British Months |  |
May the month of mirth. Occasional frosts. Windy weather, its usefulness. Shedding of the fruit-blossoms, and last year's beech-leaves. The laurel's succession of leaves
May is the very month of mirth!
And if there be a time on earth,
When things below in part may vie
For beauty with the things on high;
As some have thought earth's beauties given
For counterparts of those in heaven;
'Tis in that balmy vernal time,
When nature revels in her prime;
And all is fresh and fair and gay,
Resplendent with the smiles of May.
And if there be a time on earth,
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For beauty with the things on high;
As some have thought earth's beauties given
For counterparts of those in heaven;
'Tis in that balmy vernal time,
When nature revels in her prime;
And all is fresh and fair and gay,
Resplendent with the smiles of May.
Not that with universal smiles,
In these our north Atlantick isles,
At once, and in her infant days,
Sweet May her blooming face arrays.
Not that no lurking lingering trace
Of winter still maintains its place
Intrusive on her early hours;
Obscures her charms with sullen showers,
Or with a keen and frosty breath
Insidious nips the flowery wreath,
And mars the kirtle green, that deck
Her shining brow and glossy neck.
Not that no harsher ruder sway
The usurper will at times display;
With touch of eastern blast consume
The blacken'd leaf, the shrivel'd bloom,
And crush with iron grasp severe
The promise of the early year.
In these our north Atlantick isles,
At once, and in her infant days,
Sweet May her blooming face arrays.
Not that no lurking lingering trace
Of winter still maintains its place
Intrusive on her early hours;
Obscures her charms with sullen showers,
Or with a keen and frosty breath
Insidious nips the flowery wreath,
And mars the kirtle green, that deck
Her shining brow and glossy neck.
Not that no harsher ruder sway
The usurper will at times display;
With touch of eastern blast consume
The blacken'd leaf, the shrivel'd bloom,
And crush with iron grasp severe
The promise of the early year.
But rarely such disastrous force
Arrests fair May's propitious course.
While o'er her minor transient harms
Arise her due reviving charms
Superior; winter's lingering frown
Displace; repair her half-nipt crown;
And fling at length a general robe
Of verdure o'er the laughing globe.
Arrests fair May's propitious course.
While o'er her minor transient harms
Arise her due reviving charms
Superior; winter's lingering frown
Displace; repair her half-nipt crown;
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Of verdure o'er the laughing globe.
Yet oft, amid the season fair,
The restless spirit of the air,
From his cloud-mantled citadel,
Where rain and wind and thunder dwell,
His ready agents sends abroad;
Not with austere and blighting rod
Equipt, to injure or destroy,
But give fertility and joy;
Release the long expected shoot,
Unfold the bud, the embryo fruit
Strip of the inclosing blossom bare,
And for the ripening warmth prepare.
The restless spirit of the air,
From his cloud-mantled citadel,
Where rain and wind and thunder dwell,
His ready agents sends abroad;
Not with austere and blighting rod
Equipt, to injure or destroy,
But give fertility and joy;
Release the long expected shoot,
Unfold the bud, the embryo fruit
Strip of the inclosing blossom bare,
And for the ripening warmth prepare.
Then will a strange fantastick form
Of things attend the transient storm.
Of things attend the transient storm.
Oft when the vernal breezes blow,
You might believe the wintry snow
Was falling fast in fleecy showers;
So thick the Cherry's blossom'd flowers,
Or branching Pear's, in flakes around
Descending clothe the whiten'd ground:
While near from party-colour'd bloom
The Apple breathes his rich perfume,
Amid the hum of murmuring bees
That hover through the fragrant trees;
And sheds from many a cluster'd head
His show'r of mingled white and red.
You might believe the wintry snow
Was falling fast in fleecy showers;
So thick the Cherry's blossom'd flowers,
Or branching Pear's, in flakes around
Descending clothe the whiten'd ground:
While near from party-colour'd bloom
The Apple breathes his rich perfume,
Amid the hum of murmuring bees
That hover through the fragrant trees;
And sheds from many a cluster'd head
His show'r of mingled white and red.
Oft might you think the year again
Was chang'd to autumn's withering reign,
So thick the dark brown leaves are strew'd
In whirls amid the Beechen wood;
Save that above, the boughs are seen
Cloth'd with their new-born sprouts of green,
Which, as the winds pass over, play
And twinkle in the sunny ray.
Was chang'd to autumn's withering reign,
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In whirls amid the Beechen wood;
Save that above, the boughs are seen
Cloth'd with their new-born sprouts of green,
Which, as the winds pass over, play
And twinkle in the sunny ray.
Nor less are seen, as if in strife,
The appearances of death and life,
Where for his blotch'd and sapless leaves,
Its self-bred plague, the Laurel grieves,
Which now the loosening breezes sweep
Abroad in many a spiral heap,
Yellow, or tawny brown: but feels
Meanwhile the mounting juice, that steals
Through the green veins unseen, and shows
The untwisting shoots in spiky rows.
So closely on the falling dead
The coming ranks aspiring tread,
No unfill'd interval between,
That thus with vesture evergreen
The laurels ne'er dismantled stand:
Like that once fam'd Immortal Band,
The pride of Persia's turban'd host,
Where ever, to fulfill the post
Scarce void, an armed champion rose;
And still the band the astonish'd foes
Complete in length and depth defied,
As if their slaughter'd never died.
The appearances of death and life,
Where for his blotch'd and sapless leaves,
Its self-bred plague, the Laurel grieves,
Which now the loosening breezes sweep
Abroad in many a spiral heap,
Yellow, or tawny brown: but feels
Meanwhile the mounting juice, that steals
Through the green veins unseen, and shows
The untwisting shoots in spiky rows.
So closely on the falling dead
The coming ranks aspiring tread,
No unfill'd interval between,
That thus with vesture evergreen
The laurels ne'er dismantled stand:
Like that once fam'd Immortal Band,
The pride of Persia's turban'd host,
Where ever, to fulfill the post
Scarce void, an armed champion rose;
And still the band the astonish'd foes
Complete in length and depth defied,
As if their slaughter'd never died.
| The British Months | |