May Day (Flame and Shadow)

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May Day
by Sara Teasdale


A delicate fabric of bird song
     Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
     Is everywhere.

Red small leaves of the maple
     Are clenched like a hand,
Like girls at their first communion
     The pear trees stand.

Oh I must pass nothing by
     Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips,
     The grass with my touch;

For how can I be sure
     I shall see again
The world on the first of May
     Shining after the rain?


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