Poem by Benjamin Brierley

May

(Manchester Guardian, 1854.)

MAY is come!—the month of flowers,—
O'er the banks, and through the bowers,
Laughing breezes, light and gay,
Bear the greeting —"Welcome May!"
    Drinking ether as he sings,
Flashing sunlight from his wings,
The soaring lark, with merry throat,
Warbles shrill his Maying note.
Other songsters from the grove,
Pour their matin songs of love,
And blithely hop from spray to spray,
Hailing nature's holiday.
    Trooping down the vale below,—
Weaving garlands as they go;
Sweet as heav'nly seraphim,
Little vale nymphs chant their hymn,—
    "Come, ye children, hither come,
Through the woodlands let us roam,
And chase the wand'ring butterfly,
Ere he seeks some other sky.
Let us go where flowery banks
Offer up their morning thanks,
To the home of every pray'r,
For the pretty robes they wear.
There watch how fairy hands distil
Sparkling wine-drops from the rill;
And pass the cup from flow'r to flow'r,
To celebrate the festal hour;
Whilst Dryads, decked in dewy gems,
    Gaily trip it o'er the lea,
To tiny bells, on nodding stems,
    Ringing elfin minstrelsy.
Merry shouts ring through the dell;
Ling'ring whispers haunt the well;
Echo calls from far away,
List ye what its voices say—
    "Away, and seek the greenwood shade
Come each village youth and maid,
Bring ye flowers fresh and gay,
To strew before the Queen of May.
Here are dainties to allure
From his feast the epicure;
For the simple honey bee
Hath a sweeter feast than he.
Bring the old, the hale, the young,—
Bring the feeble and the strong,
To watch the merry pranking troop
Round the flow'ry May Queen group.
Mingle in the dance and song,
All who would their lives prolong,
And ne'er rest till shadows gray
Indicate the close of day,
For 'tis May! 'tis May! 'tis May!

1. Wigan Sam
2. Owd Pigeon
3. “Owd Ab's” Lament over Knott Mill Fair
4. Fotchin' th' Keaws up
5. To Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Edinburgh on Her Wedding

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

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