Ode to May

Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!

May I sing to thee

As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae?

Or may I woo thee

In earlier Sicilian? Or thy smiles

Seek as they once were sought in Grecian isles

By bards who died content on pleasant sward,

Leaving great verse unto a little clan?

O, give me their old vigour, and unheard

Save of the quiet Primrose, and the span

Of heaven and few ears,

Rounded by thee, my song should die away

Content as theirs,

Rich in the simple worship of a day.