-- All ye that love the Maypole , lend your voices to the nuptial song of the Lord and Lady of the May ! '' This wedlock was more serious than most affairs of Merry Mount , where jest and delusion , trick and fantasy , kept up a continual carnival . The Lord and Lady of the May , though their titles must be laid down at sunset , were really and truly to be partners for the dance of life , beginning the measure that same bright eve . The wreath of roses that hung from the lowest green bough of the Maypole had been twined for them , and would be thrown over both their heads in symbol of their flowery union . When the priest had spoken , therefore , a riotous uproar burst from the rout of monstrous figures . `` Begin you the stave , reverend sir , '' cried they all , `` and never did the woods ring to such a merry peal as we of the Maypole shall send up . '' Immediately a prelude of pipe , cittern and viol , touched with practised minstrelsy , began to play from a neighboring thicket in such a mirthful cadence that the boughs of the Maypole quivered to the sound . But the May-lord -- he of the gilded staff -- chancing to look into his lady 's eyes , was wonder-struck at the almost pensive glance that met his own . `` Edith , sweet Lady of the May , '' whispered he , reproachfully , `` is yon wreath of roses a garland to hang above our graves that you look so sad ? Oh , Edith , this is our golden time . Tarnish it not by any pensive shadow of the mind , for it may be that nothing of futurity will be brighter than the mere remembrance of what is now passing . '' `` That was the very thought that saddened me . How came it in your mind too ? '' said Edith , in a still lower tone than he ; for it was high treason to be sad at Merry Mount . `` Therefore do I sigh amid this festive music . And besides , dear Edgar , I struggle as with a dream , and fancy that these shapes of our jovial friends are visionary and their mirth unreal , and that we are no true lord and lady of the May . What is the mystery in my heart ? '' Just then , as if a spell had loosened them , down came a little shower of withering rose-leaves from the Maypole . Alas for the young lovers ! No sooner had their hearts glowed with real passion than they were sensible of something vague and unsubstantial in their former pleasures , and felt a dreary presentiment of inevitable change .
From the moment that they truly loved they had subjected themselves to earth 's doom XXXXX care and sorrow and troubled joy , and had no more a home at Merry Mount .
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