MAY 117 



patch of yellow flowers in a ryefield." Under the May 

 blossoms still the Florentine peasants sing their Maggiolata : 

 alas, we have let all the visible thanksgivings for May and 

 Spring disappear from our land. But let us hope the gladness 

 is still in the hearts of many of us. 



Here is a picture of May from Gabrielle D'Annunzio's 

 Rondo Pastorale : "To bountiful May the wind makes vague 

 lamentations through the forest ; the choruses ascend heaven- 

 ward, and the rivers bring large treasures of water. The 

 beautiful hills are smiling with the flush of the daybreak, 

 from whence a thousand perfumes ascend to heaven. The 

 shepherd takes his flute, surrounded by his white flock, and 

 from it extracts new modulations, while to its melody listens 

 his love from beyond the flowering hedges." 



For a few brief days the orchards are turned into fairy- 

 land with blossom beauty, the first fantastic touch of Spring. 

 Hardly has this impulsive loveliness commenced ere it 

 vanishes and sobers down to restful green, the clear, green 

 foliage of Maytime leafland. Quite as lovely are the 

 moods of May in other lands : May in Troubadour Land, 

 for instance, as described by H. Baring Gould, when "The 

 crags are rich in colour, the cytisus waving its golden hair, 

 the pelargonium blazing scarlet, beds of white stock wafting 

 fragrance, violets scrambling over every soft bank of deep 

 earth exhaling fragrance ; roses, not many in flower, but their 

 young leaves in masses of claret-red ; wherever a ledge allowed 

 it, there pansies of velvety blue and black and brown have 

 been planted. In a hot Spring sun the cedars and umbrella 

 pines exhale their aromatic breath, and the flowering birch rains 

 down its yellow dust over one from its swaying catkins." 



