May.

Whilst troublous blow the southern April winds,1
                        
                        And swallows cross the shining Eastern seas2
                        
                        Thro’ the clear dawn, and half the setting stars3
                        
                        Gleam in the West in clustrous companies,4
                        Thou, with the moon, a sickle gold and wan,5
                        
                        Thy sweet head garlanded with violet,6
                        
                        Appearest, in the meadows of the sun,7
                        
                        Thy locks with Spring rains and fresh odours wet.8
                        Rich glories break upon the villages,9
                        
                        The netted honeysuckled gables bloom,10
                        
                        The cocks crow shrill and cheerful, the white lambs11
                        
                        Run to the brook within the elm-tree’s gloom.12
                        The pastures laugh ;  the sky above the oaks13
                        
                        Is roofed with dripping clouds and spaces blue,14
                        
                        The butterfly, all jewelled with the rain,15
                        
                        Shines, on the ivy leaves, amid the dew.16
                        Blithe apparition, whilst the hedges teem17
                        
                        With sun-like cowslips, and the fields are white18
                        
                        With myriad daisies, and the weedy lakes19
                        
                        Unbosom all their lilies to the light ;20
                        Whilst yet the heifer, smelling of the meads,21
                        
                        Feeds in her mother’s shadow; and the deer22
                        
                        Troop from the tangled lowlands of the North23
                        
                        To pasture in the hilly atmosphere ;24
                        Give me to wander through the flowering fields25
                        
                        Or heaths forlorn, or by rivers slow,26
                        
                        Bedded with yellow sand and pebbles rare,27
                        
                        And mossy stones above the current’s flow ;28
                        Where I may catch thy breath, delightful May,29
                        
                        Blowing upon my forehead; and the breeze30
                        
                        Steal from the meadows, and the pleasant farms 31
                        
                        Sweet scents of hay and rural harmonies.32
                        Season of hope, thou blessed Pentecost33
                        
                        Of heart and nature, when the summer fires34
                        
                        Again at sunset flame along the West,35
                        
                        And birds pipe cheerful, in the forest choirs,36
                        Companion of the plant-conceiving sun,37
                        
                        Whilst Spring cold tempers all thy Summer  
charm,38
                        
                        charm,38
Thou turnest from thy brother, April, and rain’st  
flowers39
                        
                        flowers39
Over the white round of thy naked arm.40