May

May Day, 1795
May Day, 1795


The May-pole is up,
Now give me the cup;
I'll drink to the garlands around it;
But first unto those
Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown'd it.

A health to my girls,
Whose husbands may earls
Or lords be, granting my wishes,
And when that ye wed
To the bridal bed,
Then multiply all, like to fishes.

Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674), The May-Pole

Brueghel the Younger, St. George’s Kermis with the Dance around the Maypole, 1627

It is clear from Brueghel’s image of people dancing around a Maypole on St. George’s day (April 23rd), that May festivals and celebrations were not always limited to the month of May itself. In many poems, therefore, the term ‘May’ is simply a metonym for ‘Spring’. The focus is on the end of winter, new life and budding nature (to say nothing of sexuality and ‘country matters’).


Sei mir gegrüßt, o Mai mit deinem Blütenhimmel, 
Mit deinem Lenz, mit deinem Freudenmeer.
Sei mir gegrüßt mit deinem fröhlichen Gewimmel 
Der neu belebten Wesen um mich her!

Let me greet you, o May, with your flowery sky,
With your spring, with your sea of joy.
Let me greet you, with your cheerful swarm
Of newly living creatures all around me.

Kumpf, Mein Gruß an den Mai  D 305


Die Luft ist blau, das Tal ist grün,
Die kleinen Maienglocken blühn,
Und Schlüsselblumen drunter;
Der Wiesengrund
Ist schon so bunt,
Und malt sich täglich bunter.

Drum komme, wem der Mai gefällt,
Und schaue froh die schöne Welt
Und Gottes Vatergüte,
Die solche Pracht
Hervorgebracht,
Den Baum und seine Blüte.

The air is blue, the valley is green,
The small lily of the valley is in bloom,
And underneath there are cowslips;
The surface of the meadow
Is already so colourful
And day by day it is being painted more brightly.

So come, anyone who likes May,
And look on the beautiful world with pleasure,
Enjoy God's fatherly loving kindness -
Such splendour
Has he brought forth:
The tree and its blossom.

Hölty, Frühlingslied  D 243, D 398

Der Schnee zerrinnt,
Der Mai beginnt,
Die Blüten keimen
Den Gartenbäumen,
Und Vogelschall
Tönt überall.

Pflückt einen Kranz,
Und haltet Tanz
Auf grünen Auen,
Ihr schönen Frauen,
Wo junge Main
Uns Kühlung streun.

Wer weiß, wie bald
Die Glocke schallt,

The snow is melting,
May is beginning,
The blossoms are sprouting
On the trees in the garden
And the sound of birds
Can be heard everywhere.

Pluck a garland
And hold a dance
On the green meadow
You beautiful women,
Where young May blossoms
Strew coolness over us.

Who knows how soon
The bell will toll!

Hölty, Mailied D 130, D 202

The suggestion that time is short and that we should gather our rosebuds while we may in May is common to a number of Schubert’s song texts.


Lasst im Morgenstrahl des Mai'n
Uns der Blume Leben freun,
Eh' ihr Duft entweichet!
Hauch er in den Busen Qual,
Glüht ein Dämon im Pokal,
Der sie leicht verscheuchet.

Schnell, wie uns die Freude küsst,
Winkt der Tod, und sie zerfließt;
Dürfen wir ihn scheuen?
Von den Mädchenlippen winkt
Lebensatem, wer ihn trinkt,
Lächelt seinem Dräuen.

In the morning beams of May let
Us enjoy the flower of life
Before its scent fades!
If it breathes anxiety into the breast
There is nevertheless a demon glowing in the beaker
That can easily scare it off.

As quickly as joy kisses us
Death beckons us and it flies away;
Should we be afraid of death?
Beckoning from the lips of girls is
The breath of life; anyone who drinks this
Can laugh at death's threats.

von Deinhardstein, Skolie  D 306

Although the tone of most of these songs is celebratory, there are examples of texts where the poet expresses feelings of alienation or loss, where the burgeoning Spring all around only serves to highlight the sadness within.


Wann der silberne Mond durch die Gesträuche blinkt,
Und sein schlummerndes Licht über den Rasen streut,
   Und die Nachtigall flötet,
       Wandl' ich traurig von Busch zu Busch.

Selig preis ich dich dann, flötende Nachtigall,
Weil dein Weibchen mit dir wohnet in einem Nest,
   Ihrem singenden Gatten
      Tausend trauliche Küsse gibt.

Überhüllet von Laub girret ein Taubenpaar
Sein Entzücken mir vor; aber ich wende mich,
   Suche dunklere Schatten,
      Und die einsame Träne rinnt.

Wann, o lächelndes Bild, welches wie Morgenrot
Durch die Seele mir strahlt, find ich auf Erden dich?
   Und die einsame Träne
      Bebt mir heißer die Wang herab.

Whenever the silver moon gleams through the undergrowth
And strews its slumbering light over the grass,
And the nightingale sings like a flute,
I wander sadly from bush to bush.

On those occasions I consider you blessed, fluting nightingale,
Since your little wife lives with you in one nest,
To her singing spouse
She gives a thousand cosy kisses.

Covered over by foliage, a pair of doves is cooing
Their devotion in front of me; but I turn away and
Look for darker shadows,
And the single tear runs [down my cheek].

When, oh smiling image, which, like dawn
Is shining through my soul, when shall I find you on earth?
And the single tear
Feels hotter as it trembles down my cheek.

Hölty, Die Mainacht  D 194

One of the saddest texts in Die schöne Müllerin centres on the irony of dry, dead flowers. These will always remind the unhappy lover of the absence of May and love. The final assertion of the arrival of May and springtime is just one more of the speaker’s many delusions.


Ihr Blümlein alle,
Die sie mir gab,
Euch soll man legen
Mit mir ins Grab.

Wie seht ihr alle
Mich an so weh,
Als ob ihr wüsstet,
Wie mir gescheh?

Ihr Blümlein alle,
Wie welk, wie blass?
Ihr Blümlein alle,
Wovon so nass?

Ach Tränen machen
Nicht maiengrün,
Machen tote Liebe
Nicht wieder blühn,

Und Lenz wird kommen,
Und Winter wird gehn,
Und Blümlein werden
Im Grase stehn,

Und Blümlein liegen
In meinem Grab,
Die Blümlein alle,
Die sie mir gab!

Und wenn sie wandelt
Am Hügel vorbei
Und denkt im Herzen,
Der meint' es treu!

Dann Blümlein alle,
Heraus, heraus,
Der Mai ist kommen,
Der Winter ist aus.

All you little flowers
That she gave me,
You ought to be laid 
With me in my grave.

How you are all looking
At me so sorrowfully,
As if you knew
How things were going for me.

All you little flowers,
How withered, how pale.
All you little flowers
How have you become so wet?

Oh, tears do not make 
Things as green as May,
Dead love does not make
Things bloom again.

And spring will come,
And winter will go,
And little flowers will
Appear in the grass,

And little flowers lie
In my grave,
All those little flowers
That she gave me.

And when she walks
Past my mound,
And thinks in her heart:
"That was someone with a faithful intention!"

Then all little flowers,
Come out, come out!
May has arrived,
Winter is over.

Müller, Trockne Blumen D 795/18

In Müller’s other great cycle, Winterreise, May is again used to emphasise the narrator’s loneliness and despair.


Fremd bin ich eingezogen,
Fremd zieh ich wieder aus,
Der Mai war mir gewogen
Mit manchem Blumenstrauß.
Das Mädchen sprach von Liebe,
Die Mutter gar von Eh'.
Nun ist die Welt so trübe,
Der Weg gehüllt in Schnee.

When I moved in I was an outsider,
As I move out I am an outsider again.
May was good to me and offered
Many bunches of flowers.
The girl spoke of love,
The mother even spoke of marriage -
The world is so bleak now,
The path is covered in snow.

Müller, Gute Nacht  D 911/1

Ich träumte von bunten Blumen,
So wie sie wohl blühen im Mai,
Ich träumte von grünen Wiesen,
Von lustigem Vogelgeschrei.

Und als die Hähne krähten,
Da ward mein Auge wach,
Da war es kalt und finster,
Es schrieen die Raben vom Dach.

I dreamt of colourful flowers,
About the way they blossom in May,
I dreamt of green meadows,
About birds singing happily.

And when the cocks crew
My eye was then alert;
Then it was cold and dark,
The ravens on the roof were shrieking.

Müller, Frühlingstraum  D 911/11

For Ernst Schulze, May is not a distant dream or a memory; it is truly happening down in the valleys, but for some reason he is compelled to stay in the hills. The delights of May and springtime are simply inaccessible to people like him. It appears that Schubert had increasing sympathy for this viewpoint later in life, given the number of texts on this theme that he chose to set.


Die Winde sausen
Am Tannenhang,
Die Quellen brausen
Das Tal entlang;
Ich wandre in Eile
Durch Wald und Schnee,
Wohl manche Meile
Von Höh zu Höh.
 
Und will das Leben
Im freien Tal
Sich auch schon heben
Zum Sonnenstrahl,
Ich muss vorüber
Mit wildem Sinn
Und blicke lieber
Zum Winter hin.
 
Auf grünen Heiden,
Auf bunten Au'n,
Müsst ich mein Leiden
Nur immer schaun,
Dass selbst am Steine
Das Leben sprießt,
Und ach, nur Eine
Ihr Herz verschließt.
 
O Liebe, Liebe,
O Maienhauch,
Du drängst die Triebe
Aus Baum und Strauch,
Die Vögel singen
Auf grünen Höhn,
Die Quellen springen
Bei deinem Wehn.
 
Mich lässt du schweifen
Im dunklen Wahn
Durch Windespfeifen
Auf rauer Bahn.
O Frühlingsschimmer,
O Blütenschein!
Soll ich denn nimmer
Mich dein erfreun?


The winds are roaring
On the slopes covered in fir trees,
The springs are gurgling
All along the valley,
I have been rushing along
Through woods and snow
For many a mile now,
From hilltop to hilltop.

And if life
In the open valley
Also rises up
Into the sunbeams,
I shall have to go on
With a savage determination
And turn my eyes
Towards winter.

On green heathland,
On colourful meadows,
I would only be able to see my suffering,
I would be looking at it all the time,
Knowing that even from stones
Life can spring,
And alas, only one person
Has closed her heart.

Oh love, love,
Oh breath of May!
You are pushing up the shoots
From the trees and bushes;
The birds are singing
On the green heights;
The springs are gushing
At your inspiration!

You leave me to roam
In dark confusion
Through the blowing wind
On my rough course.
Oh shimmer of spring,
Oh shining blossom,
Shall I therefore never
Enjoy you?


Schulze, Über Wildemann  D 884

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Descendant of: 

TIME   Spring (season)  


Texts with this theme: