A MAY SONG. 
107 
A MAY SONG. 
Over the hill to the Derwent valley 
Comes through the showers and flowers a Queen ; 
The man leaves the mill and the child leaves the valley 
To meet her, and greet her, and dance on the green. 
Tassels of velvet the poplars have wrought her, 
Daisies have proffered the silver she loves. 
The ash of the Norsemen a sceptre has brought her. 
That scatters the dust of fine gold as she moves. 
Daffodils linger her harness to brighten. 
Brooches of primrose her bosom adorn. 
All April gems in her coronal lighten. 
Rubies from larch tresses, pearls from the thorn. 
Courier in front of her, flies the glad swallow. 
Pigeons clap cymbals, bees drummer-boys are. 
Redstarts for liverymen flicker and follow. 
Cuckoos cry “ Look you,” the Rooks call “ Hurrah !” 
Every sweet bird of the wild woodland chorus 
Sings to the people “ Rejoice ! Rejoice ! ” 
The Queen of the May who is going before us 
Brings a new word to us, hark to her voice ! 
“ Once in the year is the May-time given 
To tell to the saddest our glad old earth 
Is a fair free place for the Kingdom of Heaven 
If man will be wiser and harmless in mirth.” 
See, from the hounds how the gentle hare hurrying 
Hides in the folds of the May-Queen’s dress. 
How the poor rabbit those cowards were worrying 
Leaps to her lap in his sore distress ! 
Look, in alarm, from his cage the deer speeding 
Hardly escaped from the hunter’s hand. 
Scarred by fierce teeth, from the cruel barbs bleeding. 
Lies at her feet and is licking her hand ! 
Forth from her hood lo, the tawny Owl peeping. 
Kestrels are fearlessly perched on her wrist. 
For they know that man’s helpers are safe in her keeping. 
And the Buzzard stoops dowm from his height to be kissed ! 
Queen of joy, duly our vows would we render 
Hail to thee, royal one, loyal we call ; 
Eyes to see truly, a heart that is tender. 
This is the homage thou claimest from all. 
