English May

Would God your health were as this month of May

Should be, were this not England, - and your face

Abroad, to give the gracious sunshine grace

And laugh beneath the budding hawthorn-spray.

But here the hedgerows pine from green to grey

While yet May's lyre is tuning, and her song

Is weak in shade that should in sun be strong;

And your pulse springs not to so faint a lay.

If in my life be breath of Italy,

Would God that I might yield it all to you!

So, when such grafted warmth had burgeoned through

The languor of your Maytime's hawthorn-tree,

My spirit at rest should walk unseen and see

The garland of your beauty bloom anew.