Probable date: Mon, 9 May 1994 01:56:35 GMT
Antti A Lahelma (alahelma@cc.Helsinki.FI) wrote:

 Found this little gem while studying for a literature exam. It's a Beltane
 poem, so I found it a week too late -- hope you enjoy it anyway. )

 The author is Robert Herrick (1591-1674), of whom the Norton Anthology of
 English Literature says

  "At the top of his poetic bent, in _Corinna's Going A-Maying_, Herrick
   produced a truly major lyric on the central theme of his life, the happy
   reconciliation of nature and nature's god. ... A recurrent theme in his
   work is a deftly balanced personal paganism -- private sacrifices to
   household gods, tiny rituals, and allusions to ancient creeds only half-
   seriously taken. The Puritans would have been scandalized had they
   realized that this minister of the holy gospel was half pagan and didn't
   even have the grace to be ashamed of the fact." [Herrick was a priest,
   but a very reluctant one. Social pressures had forced him to be ordained.]


 	Corinna's Going A-Maying

 	Get up! get up for shame! the blooming morn
 	Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. (1)
 	  See how Aurora throws her fair
 	  Fresh-quilted colors through the air
 	  Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
 	  The dew bespangling herb and tree.
 	Each flower has wept and bowed towards the east
 	Above an hour since, yet you not dressed;
 	  Nay, not so much as out of bed?
 	  When all the birds have matins said,
 	  And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,
 	  Nay, profanation to keep in,
 	Whenas a thousand virgins 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 springtime, fresh and green,
 	  And sweet as Flora. (2) 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 (3) on the eastern hill
 	  Retires 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 (into) 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 whitethorn 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 whitethorn laden home.
 	  Some have dispatched their cakes and cram
 	  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, (4)
 	  Many a kiss, both odd and even; (5)
 	  Many a glance, too, has been sent
 	  From out the eye, love's firmament;
 	Many a jest told of the keys betraying
 	This night, and locks picked; yet we're not a-Maying.

 	Come, let us go while we are in our 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 vapor 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!

 Some explanations

 (1) Apollo, the sun-god whose hair (the rays of the sun) is never cut.

 (2) Flora was the Italian goddess of flowers, whose festival was in
     the spring.

 (3) The sun.

 (4) Got by rolling in the grass.

 (5) Kisses are odd and even in kissing games.

 LUX,
 -- 
Antti Lahelma           GNOTHI SEAUTON  "Tragedy is the farce that involves our
alahelma@cc.helsinki.fi  TUNNE ITSESI    sympathies  farce is the tragedy that
University of Helsinki    KNOW THYSELF   happens to outsiders." --Aldous Huxley