That nature makes a gala day!
Of May-crowned queens I am the queen,
The happy, singing heart of spring—
A maiden turning seventeen.
The fairies weave a magic ring
About my footsteps where I roam:
I have not learned that nettles sting.
Beneath the blue of Heaven’s dome,
Brushed by a feather from Time’s wing,
The world at large I call my home.