CORINNA’S GOING A-MAYING (poem text) - HERRICH ROBBERT

 

   CORINNA’S GOING A-MAYING

                                    -HERRICH ROBBERT

 

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn

   Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.

   See how Aurora throws her fir

   Fresh-quilted colours through the air:

   Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see

   The dew bespangling herb and tree.

Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the east,

Above an hour since; yet you not dress’d ;

   Nay! Not so much as out of bed?

   When all the birds have matins said

   And sung their thankfull hymns, ‘tis sin,

   Nay, profanation, to keep in,

Whereas a thousand virigins on this day

Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in may.

 

Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen

To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,

   And sweet as Flora. Take no care

   For jewels for your gown or hair:

   Fear not; the leaves will strew

   Gems 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 light

   Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:

   And Titan on the eastern hill

   Retails himself, or else stands still

Till 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, mark

How each field turns a street, each street a park,

   Made green and trimmed with trees: see how

   Devotion gives each house a bough

   Or branch: each porch, each door, ere this,

   An ark, a tabernacle is,

Made 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 obey

   The 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 come

    Back, and with white-thorn laden home.

   Some have despatched their cakes and cream,

   Before that we have left to dream :

And some have wept and wooed, 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 eve:

   Many a glance, too, has sent

   From out the eye, love’s firmament ;

Many a jest told of the keys betraying

This night, and locks pick’s. yet we’re not a-Maying

 

Come, let us go, while we are in prime;

And take the harmless folly of the time.

   We shall grow old apace, and die

   Before we know our liberty.

   Our life is short, and our days run

   As fast away as does the sun.

And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,

Once lost, can ne’er be found again,

   So when or you or I are made

   A fable, song, or fleeting shade,

   All love, all liking, all delight

   Lies drowned with us in endless night.

Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying,

Come, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying.