Edward Hovell-Thurlow, Lord Thurlow (1781–1829)

MAY, queen of blossoms,

And fulfilling flowers,

With what pretty music

Shall we charm the hours?

Wilt thou have pipe and reed,

Blown in the open mead?

Or to the lute give heed

In the green bowers?

Thou hast no need of us,

Or pipe or wire;

Thou hast the golden bee

Ripened with fire;

And many thousand more

Songsters, that thee adore

Filling earth’s grassy floor

With new desire.

Thou hast thy mighty herds,

Tame, and free-livers;

Doubt not, thy music too

In the deep rivers;

And the whole plumy flight,

Warbling the day and night—

Up at the gates of light,

See, the lark quivers!