Part 21

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Cut thistles in May, They grow in a day; Cut thistles in June, That is too soon; Cut thistles in July, Then they will die.

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In the middle of May comes the tail of the winter.

France.

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When passing o'er this streamlet, One fragrant morn in May, The meadows, wet with dewdrops, Shone bright at dawn of day; The crimson-breasted robin Was pouring forth his lay; The cuckoo's note of gladness Arose from scented spray.

The mavis warbles loudly From yonder leafy tree; The wren now joins the chorus, And chirps aloud with glee; The linnet is preparing Her cheerfulness to show, While black-cocks greet their partners With cooing soft and low.

From Celtic Lyre.

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May's warm, slow, yellow moonlit summer nights.

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Among East Coast folk there is a pretty belief, very widely held, that in May, when the sea-fowl are hatching out on the saltings, Providence checks the spring tides so that they do not rise high enough to interfere with the birds. These they call by the appropriate name of "bird tides."

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The linnet's warble, sinking towards a close, Hints to the thrush 'tis time for their repose; The shrill-voiced thrush is heedless, and again The monitor revives his own sweet strain; But both will soon be mastered, and the copse Be left as silent as the mountain-tops, Ere some commanding star dismiss to rest The throng of rooks, that now from twig or nest, (After a steady flight on home-bound wings, And a last game of mazy hoverings Around their ancient grove) with cawing noise, Disturb the liquid music's equipoise.

Wordsworth.

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The starlings are come! and merry May, And June, and the whitethorn and the hay, And the violet, and then the rose, and all sweet things are coming.

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He that would live for aye Must eat sage in May.

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A dry May and a dripping June Brings all things into tune.

Bedford.

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Hawthorn bloom and elder flowers Will fill a house with evil powers.

Warwick.

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THE SIMPLERS. (XVIIth. Century.)