May

The golden daffodils are fading fast, But beautiful the bank of bluebells bloom. This stand of beech trees has a lime-green cast As sulphur yellow, flowers the spiky broom. There is a madness to the month of May Young boys sing madrigals from Magdalen tower Fa-la la-la la, fa-la la-la lay As birds sing lustily hour on hour. Around the maypole children gaily trip, As bumble bees buzz loudly in the flower, And grown men dance with handkerchiefs and sticks : A sudden breeze; black clouds portend a shower – "Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May" But soon enough, the sun will warm the day.