May

Come out o' door, 'tis Spring! 'tis MayThe trees be green, the vields be gay;The weather's warm, the winter blast,Wi' all his train o' clouds, is past;The zun do rise while vo'k do sleep,To teaeke a higher daily zweep,Wi' cloudless feaece a-flingen downHis sparklen light upon the groun'.

The air's a-streamen soft,--come drowThe windor open; let it blowIn drough the house, where vire, an' doorA-shut, kept out the cwold avore.Come, let the vew dull embers die,An' come below the open sky;An' wear your best, vor fear the groun'In colours gay mid sheaeme your gown:An' goo an' rig wi' me a mileOr two up over geaete an' stile,Drough zunny parrocks that do leaed,Wi' crooked hedges, to the meaed,Where elems high, in steaetely ranks,Do rise vrom yollow cowslip-banks,An' birds do twitter vrom the sprayO' bushes deck'd wi' snow-white may;An' gil'cups, wi' the deaeisy bed,Be under ev'ry step you tread.

We'll wind up roun' the hill, an' lookAll down the thickly-timber'd nook,Out where the squier's house do showHis grey-wall'd peaks up drough the rowO' sheaedy elems, where the rookDo build her nest; an' where the brookDo creep along the meaeds, an' lieTo catch the brightness o' the sky;An' cows, in water to their knees,Do stan' a-whisken off the vlees.

Mother o' blossoms, and ov allThat's feaeir a-yield vrom Spring till Fall,The gookoo over white-weaev'd seasDo come to zing in thy green trees,An' buttervlees, in giddy flight,Do gleaem the mwost by thy gay lightOh! when, at last, my fleshly eyesShall shut upon the vields an' skies,Mid zummer's zunny days be gone,An' winter's clouds be comen on:Nor mid I draw upon the e'th,O' thy sweet air my leaetest breath;Alassen I mid want to stayBehine' for thee, O flow'ry May!