Richard Watson Dixon

The Judgement Of The May

Come to the judgement, golden threads
upon golden hair in rich array;
Many a chestnut shakes its heads,
Many a lupine at this day,
Many a white rose in our beds
Waits the judgement of the May.

Oh, like white roses, great white queen,
Come to the judgement, come to-day.
The white stars on thy robes of green
Are like white roses on trees in May:
By me thy stars and flowers are seen,
But now thou seemest far away.

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Richard Watson Dixon