16 
A GARDEN IN MAY 
[Nature and Art, June 1, 1866. 
on a young May morning, when I was but a boy, 
And when in racing o’er the leas I took a hearty joy, 
And in flower-picking and bird-nesting, in woody ways and nooks, 
In spite of all that others preach’d about their tiresome books. 
II. 
Well, now it was a May day, and, thirsting to be free, 
I rush’d toward the shore to drink the breezes of the sea, 
And to gather mussel-shells. — but hark ! a skylark’s merry lay ; 
He call’d mo with his carol to the meadow lands away. 
ill. 
I ran and roll’d upon the grass, and gazed up at the blue, 
And, arching over the green fields, how grand it was to view ! 
Eor all the busy ways of town but little care had I, — 
The only life I envied was the skylark’s in the sky. 
IV. 
But when the sun stood up at noon, and kiss’d my tingling cheek, 
I look’d about for garden shade, — it was not far to seek, — 
A spot where Art and Nature were a happy wedded pair ; 
I knew it not, but in I crept, — a longing drew me there. 
v. 
The many colours dazzled me, I drank a balmy draught, 
So sweetly o’er the wallflower did wooing breezes waft ; 
There stood a bed of stocks in open freedom sunny bright, 
And a cherry deck’d a wall with an altar-cloth of white. 
VI. 
Beneath a bower of summer snow there bent a hawthorn tree, 
The pretty dark-green leaves of it I could not even see, 
Playing hide-and-seek behind the flowers, — but only for a time, — 
The constant green outvies the white before the Summer’s prime. 
A murmur call’d me off to a cluster of pear-trees, 
Where, mad athirst for nectar, there swarm’d a camp of bees ; 
They swung upon the leaves, and they buzz’d a busy 
strain, 
And quick and deep the honey-juice they suck’d and 
suck’d again. 
