THE LAST OF MAY.

By fate's benevolent award,

Should I survive the day,

I'll drink a bumper with my lord

Upon the last of May.

That I may reach that happy time

The kindly gods I pray,

For are not ducks and pease in prime

Upon the last of May?

At thirty boards,‘ twixt now and then,

My knife and fork shall play;

But better wine and better men

I shall not meet in May.

And though, good friend, with whom I dine,

Your honest head is gray,

And, like this grizzled head of mine,

Has seen its last of May;

Yet, with a heart that's ever kind,

A gentle spirit gay,

You've spring perennial in your mind,

And round you make a May!