Last Poems (Housman)/The First of May
XXXIV
The First of May
The First of May
The orchards half the way From home to Ludlow fairFlowered on the first of May In Mays when I was there;And seen from stile or turning The plume of smoke would showWhere fires were burning That went out long ago.
The plum broke forth in green, The pear stood high and snowed,My friends and I between Would take the Ludlow road;Dressed to the nines and drinking And light in heart and limb,And each chap thinking The fair was held for him.
Between the trees in flower New friends at fairtime treadThe way where Ludlow tower Stands planted on the dead.Our thoughts, a long while after, They think, our words they say;Theirs now the laughter, The fair, the first of May.
Ay, yonder lads are yet The fools that we were then;For oh, the sons we get Are still the sons of men.The sumless tale of sorrow Is all unrolled in vain:May comes to-morrow And Ludlow fair again.