May
I cannot tell you how it was;
But this I know: it came to pass
Upon a bright and breezy day
When May was young; ah, pleasant May!
As yet the poppies were not born
Between the blades of tender corn;
The last egg had not hatched as yet,
Nor any bird foregone its mate.
I cannot tell you what it was;
But this I know: it did but pass.
It passed away with sunny May,
With all sweet things it passed away,
And left me old, and cold, and gray.
~~
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
from Goblin Market, and other poems, 1865.
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide.]
May by Christina Rossetti, read by Jean Aked. Couretsy jeanakedpoetry.
Quite lovely...
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