When May, with cowslip-braided locks,Walks through the land in green attire.And burns in meadow-grass the phloxHis torch of purple fire:And when the punctual May arrives,With cowslip-garland on her brow,We know what once she gave our lives,And cannot give us now!

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“When May, with cowslip-braided locks,Walks through the land in green attire.And burns in meadow-grass the phloxHis torch of purple fire:And when the punctual May arrives,With cowslip-garland on her brow,We know what once she gave our lives,And cannot give us now!”

 

Bayard Taylor

When May, with cowslip-braided locks,Walks through the land in green attire.And burns in meadow-grass the phloxHis torch of purple fire:And when the punctual May arrives,With cowslip-garland on her brow,We know what once she gave our lives,And cannot give us now!