Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Happy May Day!

A delicate fabric of bird song
Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
is everywhere.

Red small leaves of the maple
Are clenched like a hand,
Like girls at their first communion
The pear trees stand.

Oh I must pass nothing by
Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips
The grass with my touch;

For how can I be sure
I shall see again,
The world on the first of May
Shining after the rain?

May Day by Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

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