The Poetry Corner

May And The Poets

By James Henry Leigh Hunt

There is May in books forever; May will part from Spenser never; Mays in Milton, Mays in Prior, Mays in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer; Mays in all the Italian books: She has old and modern nooks, Where she sleeps with nymphs and elves, In happy places they call shelves, And will rise and dress your rooms With a drapery thick with blooms. Come, ye rains, then if ye will, Mays at home, and with me still; But come rather, thou, good weather, And find us in the fields together.