The Tears of a Clown

Now if there's a smile upon my face…

The First of May

The First of May.

Is this day one of the nicest on the calendar? Spring is rushing in after a long dark winter. Birds are happily singing everywhere, trees have that beautiful and fresh translucent green in their leaves that is seen at no other time of year. Everywhere is finally becoming active, people remember their smiles and thank their blessings all over again. We emerge into Springtime once more.

My First of May this year was partly spent with a friend walking from the local village of Papplewick through the graceful and historic Newstead Abbey, ancestral home of romantic poet, Lord Byron. Vividly coloured peacocks fought for scraps, visitors sipped tea lazily and appreciatively whilst all was well with the world for those precious moments. Water burbled and gurgled over stepping stones whilst a moorhen sat pacified mid-stream. Canada Geese took the sun on the finely-clipped grass.

Further brought Linby village with the sun shining from its yellow sandstone buildings and over the docks where children once worked to their knuckles. Spring flowers hung proudly outside The Horse and Groom with its winding-down workers of the day. Of all days stands the maypole of yore, outside the old school house, now merely token, but a harbinger of memories.

St James church forever in it’s historic copse, the bowman’s tree where longbows were once fashioned by forest folk. The ancient ewe still standing sentinel. Sitting to finish in the cosy afterglow of pleasantly aching legs, thoughts running through our minds, considering how and what is life. The refreshing Griffin’s Head before home.

I love the First of May. When I wake on that morning I am always reminded of the Spring song as The Fureys tenderly sing it. Such is love and such is Springtime.

The First of May

When I was small, and Christmas trees were tall,
we used to love while others used to play.
Don’t ask me why, but time has passed us by,
someone else moved in from far away.

Now we are tall, and Christmas trees are small,
and you don’t ask the time of day.
But you and I, our love will never die,
but guess who’ll cry come first of May.

The apple tree that grew for you and me,
I watched the apples falling one by one.
And as I recall the moment of them all,
the day I kissed your cheek and you were gone.

Now we are tall, and Christmas trees are small,
and you don’t ask the time of day.
But you and I, our love will never die,
but guess who’ll cry come first of May.

When I was small, and Christmas trees were tall,
do do do do do do do do do …
Don’t ask me why, but time has passed us by,
someone else moved in from far away.

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May 1, 2008 - Posted by | I CAN HEAR MUSIC | , , , , ,

1 Comment »

  1. Ah, it feels like real Spring and just a hint of Summer as my daughter plants her seedlings and we see the seeds the little ones planted (and I thought would get eaten by birds) begin to sprout. I love this time of year.
    God bless

    Comment by mum6kids | May 2, 2008


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