XII

This world, all hoary With song and story, Rolls in a glory Of youth and mirth; Above and under Clothed on with wonder. Sunrise and thunder, And death and birth. His broods befriending With grace unending And gifts transcending A god's at play, Yet do his meetness And sovran sweetness Hold in the jocund purpose of May.

So take your pleasure, And in full measure Use of your treasure, When birds sing best! For when heaven's bluest, And earth feels newest, And love longs truest, And takes not rest: When winds blow cleanest, And seas roll sheenest, And lawns lie greenest: Then, night and day, Dear life counts dearest, And God walks nearest To them that praise Him, praising His May.