Fair May has come with her bright golden radiance And silken gales and fragrant spicy odours, And kindly lures us with her snowy blossoms, And from a thousand blue-eyed violets greets us, And spreads abroad her flowery verdant carpet, With morning dew and sunshine interwoven, And summons all her favourite human children. At her first call the bashful people come; The men in haste put on their nankeen breeches, And Sunday coats with golden glassy buttons; The women don the white of innocence, The youths take care to curl their spring-mustachios, The maidens bid their bosoms softly heave; The city poets cram into their pockets Paper, lead-pencil, and lorgnette; and gaily The eddying moving crowd draw near the gateway, And lie at ease on the green turf beyond, Amazed to see how much the trees have sprouted,-- Play with the tender colour’d flowerets fair, List to the song of merry birds above them, And shout exulting tow’rds the vault of heaven. To me came also May, and three times knock’d she Against my door and cried: “Behold sweet May! “Thou palefaced dreamer, come, I fain would kiss thee!” But I my door kept bolted, and I cried: “In vain thou seek’st to tempt me, evil stranger. “I long have seen thee through, I’ve seen through also “The fabric of the world, and seen too much, “And much too deep, and fled is all my pleasure, “And endless torments quiver in my heart. “I see through all the stony hard outsides “Of human houses and of human bosoms, “And see in both deceit and woe and falsehood. “I’ve learnt to read the thoughts on every face,-- “All evil! In the maiden’s shamefaced blushes “I see the trembling of a secret lust; “On the inspired and haughty head of youth “I see the laughing chequer’d fool’s cap jingling; “And caric’tures alone and sickly shadows “I see upon this earth, and live in doubt “Whether a madhouse ’tis, or hospital. “The old earth’s crust I see through but too plainly “As though it were of crystal,--see the horrors “Which May is vainly striving to conceal “With pleasing verdure. There I see the dead; “They lie beneath, in their small coffins prison’d, “With hands together folded, eyes wide open, “White is their garment, white their face as well, “And yellow worms from out their lips are crawling. “I see the son with his loved mistress sitting “And toying with her on his father’s grave. “Derisive songs the nightingales are singing, “The gentle meadow flow’rets laugh with malice, “And the dead father moveth in his grave, “While the old mother-earth with pain doth shudder.” O thou poor earth, thy sorrows know I well! I see the glow that in thy breast is heaving, Thy thousand veins I see all bleeding freely, And see thy gaping wounds all, all torn open,