 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
MAY (III)
Princess of months!—so Nature's choice ordains,And lady of the summer still she reigns,
In spite of April's youth, who charms in tears,
And rosy June, who wins with blushing face,
July, sweet shepherdess, who wreathes the shears
Of shepherds with her flowers of winning grace,
And sun-tanned August, with her swarthy charms,
The beautiful and rich, and pastoral gay
September, with her pomp of fields and farms,
And wild November's sibylline array;—
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Garlands with beauty's prize the bonny May.
Where'er she goes, fair Nature hath no peer,
And months do lose their queen when she's away.
| The Poems of John Clare | |