' All the land in flowery squares, 

 Beneath a broad and equal-blowing wind, 

 Smelt of the coming summer, as one large cloud 

 Drew downward ; but all else of heaven was pure 

 Up to the sun, and May from verge to verge, 

 And May with me from head to heel. . . . 



To left and right 



The cuckoo told his name to all the hills ; 

 The mellow ouzel fluted in the elm ; 

 The red-cap whistled ; and the nightingale 

 Sang loud, as tho' he were the bird of day.' 



Tennyson. 



