May
I cannot tell you how it was;
But this I know: it came to pass Upon a bright and breezy day When May was young; ah, pleasant May! As yet the poppies were not born Between the blades of tender corn; The last eggs had not hatched as yet, Nor any bird forgone its mate. I cannot tell you what it was; But this I know: it did but pass. 10 It passed away with sunny May, With all sweet things it passed away, And left me old, and cold, and grey.
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