The Queen of the May

Read Time:3 Minute, 6 Second

A little late, but it’s still the lovely month of May, so we can go ahead and talk about it, anyway!

This lovely poem was found in my 1883 Chatterbox (first mentioned here). The Queen of the May is a very famous poem written by Alfred Tennyson, and first published in 1846.

The Queen of the May

You must wake and call me early, call me early mother dear;
To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad new year---
Of all the glad new year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine;
There's Margaret and Mary, and Kate, and Caroline;
But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they say;
So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break;
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds, and garlands gay;
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see,
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel tree?
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,---
But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother I'm to be Queen o' the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white;
And I ran by him without speaking, just like flash of light.
They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother I'm to be Queen o' the May.

They say he's dying all for love---but that can never be;
They say his heart is breaking, mother---what is that to me?
There's many a bolder lad'll woo me any summer day;
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother I'm to be Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,
And you'll be there, too, mother to see me made the Queen;
For the shepherd lads on every side'll come from far away;
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers,
And by the meadow trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo flowers;
And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray;
And I"m to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The night winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass,
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;
There will not be a drop of rain, the whole of the livelong day;
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, 'll be fresh, and green, and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill;
And the rivulet in the flowery dale'll merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early mother dear,
To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad new year:
To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.