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Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton - May-Day, 1837
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I.

MAY-DAY is come!--While yet the unwillng Spring 
Checks with capricious frown the opening year, 
Onward, where bleak winds have been whispering, 
The punctual Hours their ancient playmate bear; 
But those who long have look`d for thee, stand by, 
Like men who welcome back a friend bereaved, 
And camnot smile, because his sadden`d eye 
Doth mutely tell them how his soul is grieved. 
Even thus too greet thine alter`d face to-day, 
Thou friend in mourning garb!--chill, melancholy May! 
II.

To thee the first and readiest smiles of Earth, 
Lovely with life renew`d, were always given,-- 
To thee belong`d the sunshine and the mirth 
Which bathed all Nature with a glow from Heaven,-- 
To thee the joy of Childhood`s earnest heart, 
His shouting song, and light elastic tread, 
His brows high arch`d, and laughing lips apart, 
Bright as the wreath that bound his rosy head.-- 
Thou wert of Innocence the holiday, 
Thou garlanded and glad!--thou ever-blooming May! 
III.

Yet will I not reproach thee for thy change: 
Closed be the flower, and leafless be the tree! 
Smile not as thou wert wont; but sad, and strange, 
And joyless, let thy tardy coming be! 
So shall I miss those infant voices less, 
Calling each other through the garden bowers, 
Meeting and parting in wild happiness, 
Leading a light dance thro` the sunny hours; 
Those little mirthful hearts, who, far away, 
Breathe, amid cloud-capp`d hills, a yet more wintry May! 
IV.

Ah, boys! your play-ground is a desert spot, 
Revisited alone, and bathed with tears; 
And where ye pass your May-day, knoweth not 
The mother who hath watch`d your dawning years. 
Mine is no more the joy to see ye come, 
And deem each step hath some peculiar grace! 
Yours is no more the mother`s welcome home, 
Smiling at each beloved, familiar face! 
And I an thankfiul that this dreary May 
Recals not, save by name, that brighter, happier day! 
V.

I should have felt more mock`d, if there had been 
More peace and sunshine round me,--had the grove, 
Clad in transparent leaves of tender green, 
Been full of murm`ring sounds of Nature`s love; 
I should have wept more bitterly beneath 
The frail laburnum trees, so faint and fair,-- 
I should have sicken`d at the lilac`s breath, 
Thrown by the warm sun on the silent air; 
But now, with stern regret I wend my way-- 
I know thee not,--thou cold, and unfamiliar May!
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