From off my calendar today
A leaf I tear;
So swiftly passes smiling May
Without a care.
And now the gentleness of June
Will fleetly fly
And I will greet the glamour moon
Of lush July.
Beloved months so soon to pass,
Alas, I see
The slim sand silvering the glass
Of Time for me;
As bodingly midwinter woe
I wait with rue,
Oh how I grudge the days to go!
They are so few.
A Calendar’s a gayful thing
To grace a room;
And though with joy of life I sing,
With secret gloom
I add this merry month of May
To eighty past,
Thinking each page I tear away
May be my last.
