It’s May Day here in Britain. ‘May Day’ has a certain ring
to it, I suppose because May is a rather special month. May is when the
energies of nature come of age and strut their stuff with untrammelled confidence.
May is the month of the May blossom, when the world – as Tennyson rather nicely
put it – is white with May. And ‘may’ is a word of affirmation; ‘yes yes you
may’ is a very special phrase to me.
I somehow can’t imagine living in the southern hemisphere
where the equivalent is November. ‘November Day’ sounds not quite right.
November is a gloomy month; it’s a month for Eeyores to be born in. It’s the
month when the final flowers of the field fade. I was born in November, so I
should know.
Blow trumpet!
The world is white
with November.
The metre is all wrong.
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