Crowned April, king whose kiss bade earth
Bring forth to time her lordliest birth
⁠When Shakespeare from thy lips drew breath
And laughed to hold in one soft hand
A spell that bade the world's wheel stand,
⁠And power on life, and power on death,
With quiring suns and sunbright showers
Praise him, the flower of all thy flowers.

Hail, May, whose bark puts forth full-sailed
For summer; May, whom Chaucer hailed
⁠With all his happy might of heart,
And gave thy rosebright daisy-tips
Strange fragrance from his amorous lips
⁠That still thine own breath seems to part
And sweeten till each word they say
Is even a flower of flowering May.