It is the second of May,
And the whole park blossoms,
Its suburban hollow in the Downs
Softened by tree-flower and foliage.
No drug induces us to be seduced
By this scene in which we idle serenely.
But somehow we are blessed, momentarily privileged
To nestle our heads in Mother Nature's full bosom.
Do not let my children predecease me.
I am not strong you do not know
How all that went before
(moment on moment, watching them grow)
Would be as nothing if they were no more.
Life, which through them has been a joyous song,
Would be a vicious cancer from which I'd beg you release me.