May it is
fair faced and gentle
blackbirds exult at the crack of day
cuckoos' work greets lordly summer
a balm it is for every bitterness
hedge-green bristle the branching boughs
summer shallows
thirsty herds hasten there
heather's hair sprouts
bog cotton flourishes
tides of smoothness
the ocean drowses
flowers decorate the world
bees bear their weight of harvest
high hills call the cows
the ant feasts
harp of the trees hums and soothes
colour reposes on each slope
haze upon the brimming lake
the corn-crake croaks on, merciless poet
pure falls fall to the warm pool
rushes regain their voices of whispers
swallows soar and dart above
ardent music rings the hill
fruit of sweetness is in the bud
the dusty cuckoo cries and calls
speckled fish are at their leaping
strength of on the swift hero
strength of man is in full flower
majesty of heights unmarred
fair are the woods from root to twig
fair each fresh and fertile field
ever pleasant the garb of spring
winter gales past and gone
cheerfulness on every grove
restful, happy, sunlit time
flutterings of birds flock down
green fields full of answerings
where the busy water sparkles
a passion sparks for the racing of horses
where warriors are arrayed
rich verges on the cattle pool
lend gold to the iris flower
shy unyielding lark
the burden of your song is clear
bonny serene May is perfect
Reprinted from :-
The Craneskin Bag;
Celtic Stories and Poems
as told and sung by Robin Williamson
Canongate, 1989
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