Peter D. Purbrick
The Lovely Month Of May
Poem by Peter D. Purbrick
Have you ever smelled the air
Of a Mayday morn
Enriched by the morning dew?
Seen the crisp white bowers
Of hawthorn flowers
Enhanced by a sky of blue? Have you ever strolled through
A buttercup-ed mead
With the smell of the river nearby?
Watched the fowls and their breed
Learn to swim and to feed
And heard the "chook" of the moor hen's cry? Have you heard the hedges
Of a country lane
And the squabble of sparrows unseen?
And did you ever hark
To the voice of the lark
As it hovers o'er a field of green? Have you spied a chestnut,
With its candles white
or rose; (both give such displays),
Stand majestically tall
By a loose stoned wall
Like a king over all it surveys? Have you ever heard the "Thwock"
Of a willowed bat
And the clap of the crowd as they run
'Cross the fresh green sward?
Yes! The batsman's scored
In the warmth of a springtime sun. Have you ever heard the cuckoo
On the evening breeze?
He always seems so very far away.
Nature's laid all of this before us
With bird song there for chorus.
It's bound to be the lovely month of May
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