Now what shall I say to my darling of May?
To my darling of March, and of June, and July?
For the months have been few
that belong, dear, to you
and a history is one thing we new ones can't buy.
But you come every night that is seemly and right
And you carry your books and a Soon in your eyes
All our months are like moments,
and moments like months
But I shudder to crash through the barrier of wise.
Oh! The man, he is patient, and my eye is plank'd
I have vision that stops at the end of my nose
I can only remember
that soon our December
will go in the way that month always goes
I will watch as the seasons
turn questions to reasons
And flowers go sleeping and dancing goes sweet
My darling of May and of soon-to-be August
will watch for tomorrow, and I'll watch his feet.