It Is Not Always May
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The sun is bright-the air is clear
The darting swallows soar and sing
And from the stately elms, I hear
The bluebird prophesying Spring
So blue you winding river flows
It seems an outlet from the sky
Where waiting till the west-wind blows
The frighted clouds at anchor lie
All things are new-the buds, the leaves
That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest
And even the nest beneath the eaves
There are no birds in last year's nest
All things rejoice in youth and love
The fullness of their first delight
And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting tenderness of night
Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme
Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay
Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime
For oh, it is not always May!!!