" A star looked down from heaven and loved a flower 

 Grown in earth's garden*" 



WILLIAM WATSON. 



MAY 



A stitchwort star dawns in a bank of green, 



Herald of Summer that looks on afar ; 

 Pale, delicate, most frail, bright with rain-sheen, 



A stitchwort star. 



'Mid white of may the wild birds nesting are ; 



Whitethroat and redstart their new plumage preen, 

 Nothing of sadness now the land to mar. 



The loveliness supreme is shared between 



Bright heaven, green earth a beauty singular ; 

 Yet in one flower Spring's beauties all are seen 



A stitchwort star. 



TT appears so suddenly, it is gone so quickly, the story that 

 * comes upon the earth when the reign of Spring is fully 

 established. The fruit-trees' bridal garments are faded in 

 too short a time ; the coltsfoot's yellow stars are changed to 

 a white globe of silk too soon. What May once meant to 

 the rural folk in this country it means no longer : no more 

 are seen the quaint, innocent customs that once the month 

 brought with it. It means nothing now but a gayer garden, 

 where the sun shines more steadfastly. 



Yet the worship of Pan still exists. In Tuscany, Florence, 

 and many other parts of Italy, he is still somewhat of the 

 god he was. " Still the rude people bow down to him," says 

 Maurice Hewlett, " still honour him with gifts of flowers, 

 songs or artless custom, as on May-day the Giorno de Grilli. 

 You may still see wayside shrines, votive tablets, humble offer- 

 ings set in a farm wall or country hedge, starry and fresh as a 



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