May

I cannot tell you how it was, 

But this I know: it came to pass 

Upon a bright and sunny day 

When May was young; ah, pleasant May! 

As yet the poppies were not born 

Between the blades of tender corn;

The last egg had not hatched as yet,

Nor any bird foregone its mate*. 

I cannot tell you what it was, 

But this I know: it did but pass. 

It passed away with sunny May, 

Like all sweet things it passed away, 

And left me old, and cold, and gray. 

---Christina Rossetti, (1830-1894) 

detail from a tablecloth sold by Vermont Country Store

*in the world of birds, many males leave their mates after the babies are old enough to fly away