May And The Poets

James Henry Leigh Hunt

There is May in books forever;
May will part from Spenser never;
May’s in Milton, May’s in Prior,
May’s in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer;
May’s in all the Italian books:—
She has old and modern nooks,
Where she sleeps with nymphs and elves,
In happy places they call shelves,
And will rise and dress your rooms
With a drapery thick with blooms.
Come, ye rains, then if ye will,
May’s at home, and with me still;
But come rather, thou, good weather,
And find us in the fields together.

Next 10 Poems

• James Henry Leigh Hunt : On Receiving A Crown Of Ivy From John Keats
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Robin Hood, A Child.
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Robin Hood, An Outlaw.
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Robin Hood's Flight
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Rondeau
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Song Of Fairies Robbing An Orchard
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Sudden Fine Weather
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : The Glove And The Lions
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : The Negro Boy
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : The Nile

Previous 10 Poems

• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Jenny Kissed Me
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Jenny Kiss'd Me
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : How Robin And His Outlaws Lived In The Woods
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Fairies' Song
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Death
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : An Angel In The House
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : Abou Ben Adhem
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : A Thought Or Two On Reading Pomfret's 'choice'
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : A Thought Of The Nile
• James Henry Leigh Hunt : A Night-rain In Summer