Poem by Sara Teasdale

May

THE wind is tossing the lilacs,
    The new leaves laugh in the sun, 
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
    But for me the spring is done.

Beneath the apple blossoms
    I go a wintry way, 
For love that smiled in April
    Is false to me in May.

1. Enough
2. Riches
3. Dusk in War Time
4. Moods
5. Child, Child

Rose Cooke May ("There's a bluebird sits on the apple-tree bough")

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