(IN REPLY TO AN INVITATION DATED ON THE 1ST.)


By fate's benevolent award,
  Should I survive the day,
I'll drink a bumper with my lord
  Upon the last of May.

That I may reach that happy time
  The kindly gods I pray,
For are not ducks and pease in prime
  Upon the last of May?

At thirty boards, 'twixt now and then,
  My knife and fork shall play;
But better wine and better men
  I shall not meet in May.

And though, good friend, with whom I dine,
  Your honest head is gray,
And, like this grizzled head of mine,
  Has seen its last of May;

Yet, with a heart that's ever kind,
  A gentle spirit gay,
You've spring perennial in your mind,
  And round you make a May!