Pretend the sky's ethereal blue,
The golden kingcups' cheery hue,
Spell my, as well as Nature's, Mayday.
The evening glows, the swallow skims
Between the water and the willows;
The blackbirds pipe their evening hymns,
A punt awaits at Mr. Tims'
With generous tea and lots of pillows,
And of all girls the first, the best
To play at youth with this old fossil;