To May

by William Wordsworth

And what if thou, sweet May, hast known
Mishap by worm and blight;
If expectations newly blown
Have perished in thy sight;
If loves and joys, while up they sprung,
Were caught as in a snare;
Such is the lot of all the young,
However bright and fair.

(1840)

Seeing as its May 1st, I thought I would put up a May Day poem, from the best, Ralph Emerson.

MAY-DAY

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

AUGHTER of Heaven-and Earth, coy Spring,
With sudden passion languishing,
Maketh all things softly smile,
Painteth pictures mile on mile,
Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths,
Whence a smokeless incense breathes.
Girls are peeling the sweet willow,
Poplar white, and Gilead-tree,
And troops of boys
Shouting with whoop and hilloa,
And hip, hip, three times three.
The air is full of whistlings bland ;
What was that I heard

The poem in its entireity can be read in May-day, and Other Pieces and is availble to read or download from Google Books here.