They call me a replica, but I care not what they say.
Now I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May!
They say he's pining still for fame; but that can never be.
He likes to roar his lyrics, but what is that to me?
I'll fill the Globe with worshippers, in the old Lyceum way—
For I'm to be Promise of May, my Friend, I'm to be Promise of May!
My sisters of the cultus shall attend me clad in green;
All the poets and the painters must hail me as their Queen!
The great dramatic critics of course will have their say,
Now I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May!