"The Heavenly gates are open wide,
Our paths are beaten plain,
And if a man be not too far gone,
He may return again.

The moon shines bright and the stars give light
A little before it is day,
So God bless you all, both great and small,
And send you a merrie May!"




II


For a moment or two Walden found himself smitten by so strong a
sense of the mere simple sensuous joy of living, that he could do no
more than stand looking in silent admiration at the pretty group of
expectant young creatures gathered round the Maypole, and huddled,
as it were, under its cumbrous crown of dewy blossoms, which showed
vividly against the clear sky, while the long streamers of red,
white and blue depending from its summit, trailed on the daisy-
sprinkled grass at their feet.

Every little face was familiar and dear to him. That awkward lad,
grinning from ear to ear, with a particularly fine sprig of
flowering hawthorn in his cap, was Dick Styles;--certainly a very
different individual to Chaucer's knight, Arcite, but resembling him