The World’s May-Queen
I
Whither away is the Spring to-day?
To England, to England!
In France they heard the South wind say,
“She’s off on a quest for a Queen o’ the May,
So she’s over the hills far away,
To England!”
And why did she fly with her golden feet
To England, to England?
In Italy, too, they heard the sweet
Roses whisper and flutter and beat—
“She’s an old and a true, true love to greet
In England!”
A moon ago there came a cry
From England, from England,
Faintly, fondly it faltered nigh
The throne of the Spring in the Southern sky,
And it whispered “Come,” and the world went by,
And with one long loving blissful sigh
The Spring was away to England!
II
When Spring comes back to England
And crowns her brows with May,
Round the merry moonlit world
She goes the greenwood way:
She throws a rose to Italy,
A fleur-de-lys to France;
But round her regal morris-ring
The seas of England dance.
When Spring comes back to England
And dons her robe of green,
There’s many a nation garlanded
But England is the Queen;
She’s Queen, she’s Queen of all the world
Beneath the laughing sky,
For the nations go a-Maying
When they hear the New Year cry—
“Come over the water to England,
My old love, my new love,
Come over the water to England,
In showers of flowery rain;
Come over the water to England,
April, my true love;
And tell the heart of England
The Spring is here again!”
III
So it’s here, she is here with her eyes of blue
In England, In England!
She has brought us the rainbows with her, too,
And a glory of shimmering glimmering dew
And a heaven of quivering scent and hue
And a lily for me and a rose for you
In England.
There’s many a wanderer far away
From England, from England,
Will toss upon his couch and say—
Though Spain is proud and France is gay,
And there’s many a foot on the primrose way,
The world has never a Queen o’ the May
But England.
IV
When Drake went out to seek for gold
Across the uncharted sea,
And saw the Western skies unfold
Their veils of mystery;
To lure him through the fevered hours
As nigh to death he lay,
There floated o’er the foreign flowers
A breath of English May:
And back to Devon shores again
His dreaming spirit flew
Over the splendid Spanish Main
To haunts his childhood knew,
Whispering “God forgive the blind
Desire that bade me roam,
I’ve sailed around the world to find
The sweetest way to home.”
V
And it’s whither away is the Spring to-day?
To England, to England!
In France you’ll hear the South wind say,
“She off on a quest for a Queen o’ the May,
So she’s over the hills and far away,
To England!”
She’s flown with the swallows across the sea
To England, to England!
For there’s many a land of the brave and free
But never a home o’ the hawthorn-tree,
And never a Queen o’ the May for me
But England!
And round the fairy revels whirl
In England, in England!
And the buds outbreak and the leaves unfurl,
And where the crisp white cloudlets curl
The Dawn comes up like a primrose girl
With a crowd of flowers in a basket of pearl
For England!