The poem
From off my calendar today A leaf I tear; So swiftly passes smiling May Without a care. And now the gentleness of June Will fleetly fly And I will greet the glamour moon Of lush July.
Beloved months so soon to pass, Alas, I see The slim sand silvering the glass Of Time for me; As bodingly midwinter woe I wait with rue, Oh how I grudge the days to go! They are so few.
A Calendar's a gayful thing To grace a room; And though with joy of life I sing, With secret gloom I add this merry month of May To eighty past, Thinking each page I tear away May be my last.