Sing-Song: There Is But One May in the Year

There is but one May in the year,
And sometimes May is wet and cold;
There is but one May in the year
Before the year grows old.

Yet though it be the chilliest May

Yet though it be the chilliest May,
With least of sun and most of showers,
Its wind and dew, its night and day,
Bring up the flowers.

The summer nights are short

The summer nights are short
Where northern days are long:
For hours and hours lark after lark
Trills out his song.

The summer days are short

The summer days are short
Where southern nights are long:
Yet short the night when nightingales
Trill out their song.

The days are clear

The days are clear,
Day after day,
When April’s here,
That leads to May,
And June
Must follow soon:
Stay, June, stay!—
If only we could stop the moon
And June!

Twist me a crown of wind-flowers

Twist me a crown of wind-flowers;
That I may fly away
To hear the singers at their song,
And players at their play.
Put on your crown of wind-flowers
But whither would you go?
Beyond the surging of the sea
And the storms that blow.
Alas! your crown of wind-flowers
Can never make you fly:
I twist them in a crown to-day,
And to-night they die.

Brown and furry

Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which may be the chosen spot.
No toad spy you,
Hovering bird of prey pass by you
Spin and die,
To live again a butterfly.

A toadstool comes up in a night,—

A toadstool comes up in a night,—
Learn the lesson, little folk:—
An oak grows on a hundred years,
But then it is an oak.

A pocket handkerchief to hem—

A pocket handkerchief to hem—
On dear, oh dear, oh dear!
How many stitches it will take
Before it’s done, I fear.

Yet set a stitch and then a stitch

Yet set a stitch and then a stitch,
And stitch and stitch away,
Till stitch by stitch the hem is done—
And after work is play!