May

Springtime and sunshine and clouds that are flying,

Clear blue the waters are sparkling and sighing.

In the close hedges a bird builds its nest;

Tempest and storm are asleep and at rest.

Flowers are all budding in meadow and garden;

Spring makes those kinder whom winter doth harden.

Clear as a bell the first cuckoo doth call;

Winter coats now from the sheeps' back do fall.

Cows in the meadows rejoicing are feeding,

Slow in the stable the hours were in speeding.

Folk in the sunshine can gossip at ease,

But in the winter they shiver and freeze.

Round the great rock where the storm waves were leaping,

See, how the masses of seagulls are sweeping!

Circling no more round the storm shaken mast.

Birds in my garden are singing at last.

And to my bosom, that weary with sorrow,

Could not believe in a brighter tomorrow,

Cometh the sunshine reviving my heart:

Spring who hast found me, how welcome thou art.