A NEW ENGLAND MAY-DAY 



" That it was May, thus dremede me." 



Romaunt of the Rose. 



Do you know the tale of the months, 

 the ancient Bohemian legend, — how 

 by a fire which never goes out, sit 

 twelve silent men each with a staff in 

 his hand? The cloaks of three are 

 white as snow, and three are green 

 like the spring willow, and three are 

 gold as the ripened grain, and three 

 are blood-red like wine. The fire that 

 never fails is the sun; the silent men 

 are the months of the year. Each in 

 his turn stirs the fire with his staff ; for 

 each has his office, and if one month 

 should sleep and a turn be made amiss, 



I B 



