Mabel's Song

Floyd Dell

WHEN I was a girl, my mother would say, April, May!

"These are the months to beware of the moon, May, June!

And the blackbird singing upon the spray. April, May!

Beware, my child, of the blackbird's tune."

May, June!

When I was sixteen no more than a day April, May!

I met a young man in the flush of the noon. May, June!

His step was light and his manner was gay, April, May!

And he came from afar, by the dust on his shoon. May, June!

He looked at me once, and he looked away April, May!

And my heart it asked but a single boon.

May! June!

"I love you," he said. "For a year, or a day?"

April! May!

"For ever and ever!" The blackbird's tune—

May! June!

I could not leave him or send him away April! May!

So we walked in the wood by the light of the moon. May, June!

A blossoming branch in the wind a-sway,

April, May!

And petals over the grasses strewn.

May, June!

I had clean forgot what my mother did say,

April! May!

But I learned it all and I learned it soon. May! June!