25. Corina’s Going a Maying
Get up, get up for shame! the blooming mornUpon her wings presents the god unshorn.See how Aurora throws her fairFresh-quilted colours through the air:Get up, sweet-slug-a-bed, and seeThe dew bespangling herb and tree.Each flower has wept, and bow’d toward the east,Above an hour since; yet you not drest,Nay! not so much as out of bed?When all the birds have matins said,And sung their thankful hymns: ’tis sin,Nay, profanation, to keep in,—Whenas a thousand virgins on this day,Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.
Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seenTo come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and green,And sweet as Flora. Take no careFor jewels for your gown, or hair:Fear not; the leaves will strewGems in abundance upon you:Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,Against you come, some orient pearls unwept:Come, and receive them while the lightHangs on the dew-locks of the night:And Titan on the eastern hillRetires himself, or else stands stillTill you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying:Few beads are best, when once we go a Maying.
Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, markHow each field turns a street; each street a parkMade green, and trimm’d with trees: see howDevotion gives each house a boughOr branch: each porch, each door, ere this,An ark, a tabernacle isMade up of white-thorn neatly interwove;As if here were those cooler shades of love.Can such delights be in the street,And open fields, and we not see’t?Come, we’ll abroad: and let’s obeyThe proclamation made for May:And sin no more, as we have done, by staying;But, my Corinna, come, let’s go a Maying.
There’s not a budding boy, or girl, this day,But is got up, and gone to bring in May.A deal of youth, ere this, is comeBack, and with white-thorn laden home.Some have dispatch’d their cakes and cream,Before that we have left to dream:And some have wept, and woo’d, and plighted troth,And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:Many a green-gown has been given;Many a kiss, both odd and even:Many a glance, too, has been sentFrom out the eye, love’s firmament:Many a jest told of the keys betrayingThis night, and locks pick’d:—yet we’re not a Maying.
—Come, let us go, while we are in our prime;And take the harmless folly of the time!We shall grow old apace, and dieBefore we know our liberty.Our life is short; and our days runAs fast away as does the sun:—And as a vapour, or a drop of rainOnce lost, can ne’er be found again:So when or you or I are madeA fable, song, or fleeting shade;All love, all liking, all delightLies drown’d with us in endless night.—Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,Come, my Corinna! come, let’s go a Maying.