Come May, sweet May, with all thy bloom,
Thy fragrant breezes, azure skies,
Come quickly to the waiting earth,
And bid its bidden treasures rise.
Give us again the song of birds,
The scent of blossoms on the air,
The rustle of the growing grass,
The dainty primrose, sweet and fair.
Oh! there are hearts that long to feel
Thy soft caress on cheek and brow;
Hearts grieving, that would fain be glad;
Come then, dear May, and teach them how.
Come, tell us of thy sister June,
What gifts from her shall follow thine?
Ah! roses red she wears for crown;
Bright May, thy primrose shall be mine.
All yellow o’er the grassy lane
The cowslips spread, and ‘neath thy skies
The sweet “May blossoms” in their beds,
With violets, ope their soft blue eyes.
Then come, come quickly, charming May,
Strew the broad earth with gifts so sweet;
And hill and vale, and earth and sky,
Thy praises ever shall repeat.
by Mary Dow Brine
Art Michael Coulter
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://web.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/