May and Death.
I wish that when you died last May,1
Charles, there had died along with you2
Three parts of Spring’s delightful things ;3
Ay, and for me, the fourth part too.4
A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps !5
There must be many a pair of friends6
Who, arm in arm, deserve the warm7
Moon’s birth and the long evening-ends.8
So, for their sake, prove May still May !9
Let their new time, like mine of old,10
Do all it did for me ; I bid11
Sweet sighs and sounds throng manifold.12
Only, one little sight, one plant13
Woods have in May, that starts up green14
Except a streak, which, so to speak,15
Is Spring’s blood, spilt its leaves between,—16
That, they might spare : a certain wood17
Might lose the plant ; their loss were small :18
And I,—whene’er the plant is there19
Its drop comes from my heart, that’s all.20