Near Nature's Heart; A Volume of Verse

by Crawford Jackson

MY HOLIDAY

(Inscribed to C. L. Anderson, H. C. Bagley, S. R. Belk, J. N. McEachern and A. R. Holderby.)

The month of May for a holiday—

Now what do you think of that?

With Nature to stay for her matinee—

Up high I’ll throw my hat.

“Quite sick,” they say, in the month of May;

And the doctors all stood pat;

Yes, truly astray, unfit for the fray;

Indeed I had fallen flat,

Till the month of May, my holiday,

Near Nature’s heart whereat

I’ll doff decay, with all dismay,

And with her grow strong and fat.

The month of May for peace and play,

When the birds so fondly chat;

When the old and gray must Life obey,

Like a full fledged bouncing brat.

All hail to May and to friends for aye!

The friends who in council sat,

And said, “We pray, take the month of May,

And live in a beautiful plat.”

Hooray, hooray, for my holiday!

I’ll be a master at the bat;

Without delay I’ll mount my way,

As high as Ararat.

---