"Among the many buds proclaiming May, Decking the field in holiday array, Striving who shall surpass in braverie, Mark the faire blooming of the Hawthorn tree, Who, finely cloathed in a robe of white, Fills full the wanton eye with May's delight. Yet for the braverie that she is in Doth neither handle card nor wheel to spin, Nor changeth robes but twice; is never seen In other colours but in white or green." such is Browne's advice in his "Britannia's Pastorals" (ii. 2). He, like the other early poets, clearly loved the tree for its beauty; and in picturesque beauty the Hawthorn yields to none, when it can be seen in some sheltered valley growing with others of its kind, and allowed to grow unpruned, for then in the early summer it is literally a sheet of white, yet beautifully relieved by the tender green of the young leaves, and by the bright crimson of the anthers, and loaded with a scent that is most delicate and refreshing. But not only for its beauty is the Hawthorn a favourite tree, but also for its many pleasant associations--it is essentially the May tree, the tree that tells that winter is really past, and that summer has fairly begun. Hear Spenser-- "Thilke same season, when all is yclade With pleasaunce; the ground with Grasse, the woods With greene leaves, the bushes with blooming buds, Youngthes folke now flocken in everywhere To gather May-baskets and smelling Brere; And home they hasten the postes to dight, And all the kirk-pillours eare day-light, With Hawthorne-buds, and sweet Eglantine, And girlondes of Roses, and soppes-in-wine." _Shepherd's Calendar--May._ Yet in spite of its pretty name, and in spite of the poets, the Hawthorn now seldom flowers till June, and I should suppose it is never in flower on May Day, except perhaps in Devonshire and Cornwall; and it is very doubtful if it ever were so found, except in these southern counties, though some fancy that the times of flowering of several of our flowers are changed, and in some instances largely changed. But "it was an old custom in Suffolk, in most of the farmhouses, that any servant who could bring in a branch of Hawthorn in full blossom on the 1st of May was entitled to a dish of cream for breakfast. This custom is now disused, not so much from the reluctance of the masters to give the reward, as from the inability of the servants to find the Whitethorn in flower."--BRAND'S _Antiquities_.[112:1] Even those who might not see the beauty of an old Thorn tree, have found its uses as one of the very few trees that will grow thick in the most exposed places, and so give pleasant shade and shelter in places where otherwise but little shade and shelter could be found. "Every shepherd tells his tale Under the Hawthorn in the dale."--MILTON.