Explore "A Canadian Calendar: XII Lyrics" by Francis Sherman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O come! Is it not surely May? / The year is at its poise today. / Northward, I hear the distant beat / Of Spring's irrevocable feet: / Tomorrow June will have her way.
O tawny waters, flecked with sun, / Come: for your labours all are done. / The grey snow fadeth from the hills; / And toward the sound of waking mills / Swing the brown rafts in, one by one.