In the bright May-time,
when green herbs are springing,
our hearts they are ringing
like bells in a tower.
We dance as do maidens
upon the cropped hillside
when wedding the bride
unto chivalry’s flower,
We prance as do fawnlets
all lissome and amber
and plash in the river
and play by its side,
we sway like the willows
that spring by the water
or maidens with laughter
saluting the bride.
Out, creepings, out, crawlings,
come into the May-light
from out of your night
underneath the high hill,
come dance on the grasses,
like maidens, like fawnlets,
disporting grotesques
celebrating our fill,
with knob-knees and horn-nubs,
pug-noses and tails,
with moss-covered nails,
we crouch and we cower,
in the bright May-time
when green herbs are springing
and our hearts are ringing
like bells in a tower.