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But sickening of a vague disease,
Clara, Clara Vere de Vere,
YoU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day; For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.
There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine; There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline: But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they y: So I'm to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o' the May.
III. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break: But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay, For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.
IV. As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see, But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazeltree ? He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,+ But I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o' the May.
V. He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white, And Iran by him without speaking, like a flash of light. They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,
For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.
VI. They say he's dying all for love, but that can never b
They say his heart is breaking, mother—what is that to me 2
There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer
day And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o’ the May.
VOL. I. 6
Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green. And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made
the Queen : For the shepherd lads on every side 'ill come from
far away, And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to
be Queen o’ the May.
VIII. The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers; And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray, And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.
IX. The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass, And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day, And I’m to be Queen o' the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.
X. All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill merrily glance and play, For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o' the May.
So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, To-morrow ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year: To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.
IF you're waking call me early, call me early, mother dear,
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad Newyear.
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.
II. 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 Ile Ver" See The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.
III. 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.
IV. There’s not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the pane: I only wish to live till the snowdrops 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.
V. The building rook ill caw from the windy tall elmtree And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er the wave, But I shall lie alone, mother, within the moulder
Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave
of mine, In the early early morning the summer Sun 'ill
shine, Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the
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;
When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool
On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool.