(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!