The First of May
The First of May
Poem
If I could stay up late no doubt
I'd catch the buds just bursting out;
And up from every hidden root
Would jump a tiny slender shoot;
I wonder how seeds learn the way,
They always know the very day-
The pretty, happy first of May;
If I could stay up then, no doubt
I'd catch the buds just bursting out.
Notes
Written by Annette Wynne.
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