Sure, merry May, thy reign is near allied
To that of early love.--Thy subjects play
Blushing in bloom; and pranked in frolic pride
Right freshly shines thy blithe and breezy day.
In the green shade that scarce excludes the ray,
The insect hum is up; the brilliant fly
Lights on a sunny leaf and glistens gay;
While the coy blackcap warbles wildly nigh.
Quick shoots the gossamer all reddening bright
With sunny glance: the sharp-winged swallows high
Sail nimbly: and full many a flowret's eye
Looks eager on thy realm with flush delight.
Sure thou art akin to love, sweet May.--And I
Perchance could tell some other reason why.
John Dovaston (1782-1854)
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