| YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; | |
| To-morrow ’ll be the happiest time of all the glad new-year,— | |
| Of all the glad new-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day; | |
| For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| There ’s many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine; | 5 |
| There ’s Margaret and Mary, there ’s Kate and Caroline; | |
| But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they say: | |
| So I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, | |
| If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break; | 10 |
| But I must gather knots of flowers and buds, and garlands gay; | |
| For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see | |
| But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree? | |
| He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,— | 15 |
| But I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white; | |
| And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light. | |
| They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say, | |
| For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | 20 |
| They say he ’s dying all for love,—but that can never be; | |
| They say his heart is breaking, mother,—what is that to me? | |
| There ’s many a bolder lad ’ll woo me any summer day; | |
| And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green, | 25 |
| And you ’ll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen; | |
| For the shepherd lads on every side ’ll come from far away; | |
| And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers, | |
| And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers; | 30 |
| And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray; | |
| And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass, | |
| And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass; | |
| There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day; | 35 |
| And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | |
| All the valley, mother, ’ll be fresh and green and still, | |
| And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill, | |
| And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ll merrily glance and play, | |
| For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. | 40 |
| So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; | |
| To-morrow ’ll be the happiest time of all the glad new-year; | |
| To-morrow ’ll be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, | |
| For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May. |
Monday, May 01, 2017
The May Queen: Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)
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