On a warm May evening, the speaker coaxes a loved one to rise and share the moonlit world while everyone else sleeps. The night is alive with soft light—the moon’s beam, a glow-worm’s gleam—and he imagines them roaming through Morna’s grove in a state of drowsy enchantment. His voice is full of tender urgency, insisting it’s never too late for delight and that the best way to lengthen life is to steal a few hours from the night. There’s a playful glimmer, too: he warns that a sage out watching the stars might mistake his beloved’s shining eyes for a celestial body. The poem creates an intimate, hushed mood—adoring, lightly mischievous, and steeped in the magic of a spring night when the world is dreaming.
The Young May Moon — Summary
The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! -- the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, And I, whose star, More glorious far, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. Then awake! -- till rise of sun, my dear, The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, Or, in watching the flight Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear.