Mayday, Mayday © 08 Fraser Harrison

Beard of corn, sky-blue eye,
sapling legs, boy’s smile,
our handsome, foolish friend
shot himself, locked in a shed,
on such a morn as this,
in the merry month of May.

Round his shed the cowslips bloomed
yellow as eggs for breakfast,
bloomed the blue forget-me-nots,
and stars of Bethlehem
that doused their light at night
to bloom afresh each dawn.

The sun shone,
that merry morn in May,
the brighter to show him
his failings, how short
his shadow,
how tall his debts.

The birds sang to say
his nest was smashed,
his hen betrayed.
The May green gushed
as the bright day dawned
on a fresh chance to fail.

Lark dotting the sky-blue sky,
woodpecker drilling an oak,
lambs bleating, child sleeping,
lime leaves dappling the roof,
the day our handsome, foolish friend
locked his door.