As if love would tarry.



Make hay and marry,
this dream shined by time,
all the swans on barley wine.

Such innocence and flood,
Lincoln green hood,
flowers for a maiden's garland,
remembrance made good.

Schoolboys clutching their posy of wilted bright weeds,
such a seed,
made the way,
all our love a May.

The little things,
an ice cream comet,
a chat with a Royal Engineer,
the mayor of Shipton on Stour.

This our hour,
Shakespeare's birth,
a warm gentle Saint George's day.

~