It Is Not Always May by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The sun is bright, - the air is clear,
The darting swallows
soar and sing.
And from the stately elms I hear
The bluebird prophesying Spring.
So blue you winding river flows,
It seems an
outlet from the sky,
Where waiting till the west-wind blows,
The freighted clouds at
anchor lie.
All things are new; - the buds, the leaves,
That
gild the elm-tree's nodding crest,
And even the nest beneath the eaves;
There are no birds in last year's nest!
All things
rejoice in youth and love,
The fullness of their first
delight!
And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting
tenderness of night.
Maiden, that read'st this simple
rhyme,
Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay;
Enjoy the
fragrance of thy
prime,
For oh, it is not always May!
Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,
To some good angel leave the rest;
For Time will teach thee soon the truth,
There are no birds in last year's nest!
