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May. 
But you may stay yet here awhile, 
To blush and gently smile, 
And go at last. 
What! were ye bom to be 
An hour or half’s delight, 
And so to bid good-night ? 
’Tis pity Nature brought ye forth 
Merely to show your worth, 
And lose you quite. 
But you are lovely leaves, where we 
May read how soon things have 
Their end, though ne’er so brave ; 
And, after they have shown their pride, 
Like you, awhile, they glide 
Into the grave. 
Herrick. 
SONG TO MAY. 
May ! Queen of blossoms 
And fulfilling flowers, 
With what pretty music 
Shall we charm the hours ? 
Wilt thou have pipe and reed, 
Blown in the open mead, 
Or to the lute give heed 
In the green bowers ? 
