70 THE MAY QUEEN. PART II. NEW YEAR'S EVE. If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year; It is the last New Year that I shall ever see, Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more of me. To-night I saw the sun set: he set, and left behind The good Old Year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind; And the New Year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. Last May we made a crown of flowers; we had a merry day: Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May; And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse, Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops. THE MAY QUEEN. 71 There's not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the pane: I only wish to live till the snow-drops come again: I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on high: I long to see a flower so before the day I die. The building rook'll caw from the windy tall elm tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, And the swallow'll come back again with summer o'er the wave, But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. Upon the chancel casement, and upon that grave of mine, In the early, early morning the summer sun'll shine, Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill, When you are warm asleep, mother, and all the world is still. When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night; 72 THE MAY QUEEN. When from the dry dark wood the summer airs blow cool On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush. in the pool. You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade, And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid. I shall not forget you, mother; I shall hear you when you pass, With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass. I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and Nay, 7, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild; You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child. If I can I'll come again, mother, from out my restingplace; Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face; THE MAY QUEEN. 73 Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, And be often, often with you, when you think I'm far away. Good-night! good-night! When I have said good-night for evermore, And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door, Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be grow ing green : She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been. She'll find my garden tools upon the granary floor: Let her take 'em: they are hers: I shall never garden more: But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that I set About the parlor window, and the box of mignonette. Good-night, sweet mother: call me before the day is born. All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn; But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New Year; So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear. 74 THE MAY QUEEN. PART III. CONCLUSION. I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am; lamb. How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year! To die before the snow-drop came, and now the violet's here. Oh, sweet is the new violet that comes beneath the skies, And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise, And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go! It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blesséd sun, And now it seems as hard to stay; and yet His will be done! But still I think it can't be long before I find release; And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace. |