 | Poems |  |
MAY-DAY SONG.
Out from cities haste away,This is Earth's great holiday;
Who can labour while the hours
In with songs are bringing May
Through the gaze of buds and flowers,
Through the golden pomp of day?
Haste, O haste!
'Tis sin to waste
In dull work so sweet a time,
Dance and song
Of right belong
To the hours of Spring's sweet prime.
Golden beams and shadows brown,
Where the roofs of knotted trees
Fling a pleasant coolness down,
Footing it, the young May sees;
In their dance the breezes now
Dimple every pond you pass;
Shades of leaves, from every bough
Leaping, beat the dappled grass.
Birds are noisy—bees are humming,
All because the May's a coming;
All the tongues of nature shout—
Out from towns, from cities out!
Out from every busy street!
Out from every darken'd court!
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Lingering go in pleasant thought!
Out through dells the violet's haunting!
Out where golden rivers run!
Where the wallflower's gaily flaunting
In the livery of the sun!
Trip it through the shadows, hiding
Down in hollow winding lanes!
Where through leaves the sunshine gliding
Deep with gold the woodland stains!
Where, in all her pomp of weeds,
Nature, asking but the thanks
Of our pleasure, richly pranks
Painted heaths and wayside banks,
Smooth-mown lawns and green deep meads!
Leave the noisy bustling town
For still glade and breezy down!
Haste away
To meet the May,
This is Earth's great holiday!
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