On a Stormy May-Day
May hath forgot her manners, I do fear—
This fairest child of all the gladsome year
Comes in with poutings, and with suller mien,
Instead of smiling like a vernal Queen.
She's weeping too, with frowns upon her brow,
And truly hath forgot her pleasant bow.
Egad! I guess the reason for her woes,
Rude April leaving trod upon her toes!
This fairest child of all the gladsome year
Comes in with poutings, and with suller mien,
Instead of smiling like a vernal Queen.
She's weeping too, with frowns upon her brow,
And truly hath forgot her pleasant bow.
Egad! I guess the reason for her woes,
Rude April leaving trod upon her toes!
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