I cannot tell you how it was;
But this I know: it came to pa**
Upon a bright and breezy day
When May was young; ah, pleasant May!
As yet the poppies were not born
Between the blades of tender corn;
The last eggs had not hatched as yet,
Nor any bird foregone its mate.
I cannot tell you what it was;
But this I know: it did but pa**.
It pa**ed away with sunny May,
With all sweet things it pa**ed away,
And left me old, and cold, and gray.