52 
The Hawthorn. 
“Each flower has wept and bow’d toward the east. 
Above an hour since, yet you are not dress’d— 
Nay, not so much as out of bed, 
When all the birds have matins said, 
And sung their thankful hymns; ’tis sin, 
. Nay,profanation, to keep in; 
Whereas a thousand virgins on this day 
Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May. 
****** 
“Come, my Corinna! come, and coming, mark 
How each field turns a street—each street a park, 
Made green, and trimm’d with trees! see how 
Devotion gives each house a bough 
Or branch!—each porch, each door, ere this 
An ark, a tabernacle is, 
Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove, 
As if here were those cooler shades of love. 
Can such delights be in the street 
And open fields, and we not see’t? 
Come, we ’ll abroad, and let’s obey 
The proclamation made for May, 
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying, 
But, my Corinna! come, let’s go a-Maying. 
“ There’s not a budding boy or girl, this day. 
But is got up and gone to bring in May; 
A deal of youth, ere this, is come 
Back, and with whitethorn laden home; 
Some have dispatched their cakes and cream 
Before that we have left to dream; 
And some have wept and woo’d and plighted troth, 
And chose their priest ere we can cast off sloth: 
Many a green gown has been given, 
Many a kiss, both odd and even; 
Many a glance, too, has been sent 
From out the eye, love’s firmament; 
Many a jest told of the key’s betraying 
This night, and locks picked; yet we ’re not a-Maying. 
“ Come! let us go while we are in our prime, 
And take the harmless folly of the time.” 
In these lines of the old Royalist parson-poet there is much 
that will appear obscure to many of the present geneiation, 
but by contemporaries all his allusions were comprehended 
and admired. These May-day morning piactices are generally 
supposed to have been the lingering remains of the rites insti¬ 
tuted by the ancients in honour of Flora, to whom the last four 
days of May were dedicated. The alteration in the calendar, 
by throwing this innocent festival back twelve days, soon obli¬ 
terated what fragments of it time had spared, because, when, 
