(In Reply To An Invitation Dated On The 1St.)

By fate's benevolent award, Should I survive the day, I'll drink a bumper with my lord Upon the last of May.

That I may reach that happy time The kindly gods I pray, For are not ducks and pease in prime Upon the last of May?

At thirty boards, 'twixt now and then, My knife and fork shall play; But better wine and better men I shall not meet in May.

And though, good friend, with whom I dine, Your honest head is gray, And, like this grizzled head of mine, Has seen its last of May;

Yet, with a heart that's ever kind, A gentle spirit gay, You've spring perennial in your mind, And round you make a May!