Flower O' The Year

The laggard year is now at prime And primrose-time is daffodil-time; Where do the boys delay? What tether Hinders them from the heavenly weather, From violet-time and cowslip-time? Why do they keep the house so late? The sweet o' the year is at the gate, And hear the cuckoo calling, saying: Up, slug-a-bed! 'Tis time for Maying! The cuckoo calling early and late. They have stolen away before the dawn, No print in the May-dew on the lawn Betrays the way their light feet taking Set not the quaking grass to shaking, Running so light-foot in the dawn. The primrose and the daffodil weather Is here, and cowslips troop together; The lambs frolic in pastures gold, But since they come not it is cold. Cold the primrose and daffodil weather.