13. Ode to May Queen

 

I

My consummated spouse of happiness,
My sacrament of law for all time,
Pandora child, who would thus express,
A chalice kept, in confidence of rhyme;
What maid of town or vale could name your make?
Of Mistletoe or Mayday tide forsooth?
What Mosque or church of that indigenous land?
What friends or foes are we? What plight to troth?
What ribbon bows? What tying round the nape?
What births and birthstones? What passing bland?

II

Those melodies endure, and those unheard
Are plenty; therefore, ye Klezmer, play on,
Billowing those folds and valves sprightly tone;
Fair Queen, around that pole, would not bereave
Bygones – forever shall you take that pole anew,
Your husband, ever, ever would you miss,
In dancing round and round – yet do not grieve,
He shall not fade, if only couldn’t kiss,
But always him shall love, for he was true.

III

Ah soaking, soaking boughs! Elysian wed
No leaves, since bid the tree adieu;
And, future minstrelsy, once flourished,
Still hearing those old songs, however few.
Good tidings, love! Good tides of tidings, love!
However, love, they are to be deployed,
Whatever would you be instead of young?
That lessoned courtliness, you did so approve,
That lifts a heart so dutiful alloyed,
To works of brawn without forked tongue.

IV

What are these who would demand a sacrifice?
To what hard earth, O hardworking priest,
Stir up this calf for waking at sunrise,
With all its ribbons, and for Sunday, dressed?
That tiny church in land, or near seashore,
That Leonine makes well for Geraldine,
Or mountain-top, for nurse-maid Christabel,
Was gathered of parishioners this morn,
While, in the town, there was feasting sore,
And that dressing! Yet not a soul could tell,
Why you were desolate, could not return.

V

O sky cast. Troubled seashore. Instead,
Of happy men, are maidens overwrought,
For sticks and stones, you since might toss in bed,
Unsettled form, does time me out of thought –
Was this eternity? Maydays come,
Yet in ways does this generation waste,
That should explain, that once upon ago,
Or then, upon a time, if more would say:
“Day becomes night, becomes day,” – and, then even,
“What’s hard on earth” – since, canst amount to woe.