WOULD God your health were as this month of May <br />Should be, were this not England,—and your face <br />Abroad, to give the gracious sunshine grace <br />And laugh beneath the budding hawthorn-spray. <br />But here the hedgerows pine from green to grey <br />While yet May's lyre is tuning, and her song <br />Is weak in shade that should in sun be strong; <br />And your pulse springs not to so faint a lay. <br />If in my life be breath of Italy, <br />Would God that I might yield it all to you! <br />So, when such grafted warmth had burgeoned through <br />The languor of your Maytime's hawthorn-tree, <br />My spirit at rest should walk unseen and see <br />The garland of your beauty bloom anew.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/english-may/
