A May Morning

A DISTANT cock crows loud and clear;
The larks are singing loftily;
The cloudless sun his noon is near;
A southern wind blows o'er the lea.

On every grass-green blade is hung
The morning's diamond dewy order;
The shadows of the hills are flung
Head-foremost o'er the river's border.

The river flows with stately ease;
The high-heaved firmament of blue—
Does it reflect the azure seas,
Or do the waters take its hue?

The dells are rich with primroses;
The leas are white with snow of daisies;
And every streamlet's rim knows this—
It soon will win love's dearest praises,

For ever the waves seem murmuring,
“When are you coming, blue flowery skies?
When will you shine on us here while we sing,
Sweetly shine with your sunny eyes?

“Are you lighting the fairies' gloomy grots,
Delicate, fairy chandeliers?
Where are you shining, forget-me-nots?
When are you coming to dry our tears?”

“Summer is coming,” the bee is humming,
Humming with honey-sweet hum
That sweetens the air, for summer is coming—
Coming!—the summer is come!
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