POETRY OF FLOWERS. 105 
common Hawthorn does not display its scented 
snowy blossom. From the days of Chaucer 
downwards has this chosen bride of May ever 
been belauded by the poets and beloved by the 
people. 
In the olden days our jolly forefathers made 
great use of this aromatic-smelling tree, which 
then, as now, was more commonly known by its 
favorite name of ‘‘May,” from its flowering in 
that month. Houses and churches were as habi¬ 
tually decked on May-day with the blossom of 
the hawthorn as they were at Christmas with 
holly. 
In country places it was formerly the custom 
for lads and lasses to get up soon after mid¬ 
night, and, accompanied by such music as the 
village afforded, to walk in a body to some 
neighboring wood ; there they gathered as many 
branches and nosegays of flowers as they could 
carry, and then returned home about sunrise in 
joyous procession, garlanded with flowers, and 
laden with blossomy boughs, with which to 
decorate the doors and windows. Shakspeare 
did not fail to note the eagerness with which 
May-day pastimes were looked forward to and 
indulged in in his days, and remarks: 
“ ’Tis as much impossible, 
Unless we swept them from the door with cannons, 
To scatter ’em, as ’tis to make ’em sleep 
On May-day morning.” 
