The May Queen

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;

To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year;

Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day,

For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

There’s many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine;

There’s Margaret and Mary, there’s Kate and Caroline;

But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say,

So I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,

If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break;

But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay,

For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

As I came up the valley whom think ye should I see

But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?

He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,

But I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white,

And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light.

They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,

For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

They say he’s dying all for love, but that can never be;

They say his heart is breaking, mother—what is that to me?

There’s many a bolder lad ’ill woo me any summer day,

And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,

And you’ll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen;

For the shepherd lads on every side ’ill come from far away,

And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers,

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;

And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray,

And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass,

And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;

There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day,

And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

All the valley, mother, ’ill be fresh and green and still,

And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,

And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ill merrily glance and play,

For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,

To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year;

To-morrow ’ill be of all the year the maddest merriest day,

For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.  

~Alfred, Lord Tennyson~

Lilith, Eve, May Queen and Beltane musings....

Ah, Beltane.

I love this holiday as much as I love Samhain.  And I LOVE Samhain.  It doesn't surprise me that these 2 holidays are opposite each other for one begets the other.  Life begets Death and Death begets new Life.  And with Life, there must be sex.  Beltane celebrates sex and the Life that comes from it.

Sex.  One of the great mysteries:  so celebrated, so despised; so revered, so maligned; a potent path to spiritual ecstasy or debauchery.  It is, indeed, a mighty force, one that should not be taken lightly.

And sex always brings to mind Lilith and Eve.  Not Adam and Eve, but Lilith and Eve.  And their garden with the fruit of knowledge.  I first discovered Lilith in the early '90s when I read Demetra George's fabulous book "Mysteries of the Dark Moon."  I fell completely in love with her.  Here is an excerpt from that book that just stunned and delighted me.

Jonelle Maison

Lilith was the first woman, made at the same time, from the same stuff as Adam. So, when Adam refused her equality and forced her to lie under him, Lilith spoke the forbidden name of god and flew from Eden. In mythology she became the Succubus, shown as a winged woman with taloned feet. The stories differ, and I have selected from among them. Sanvi, Sansanvi, Semangelaf are the angels sent by god to bring Lilith back to Adam. 

You gotta give it to Lilith, she was a hell of a woman.
Said she'd rather fuck demons on the beach
than lie under the belly of that whiner Adam
and flew from paradise.
Told god's angels to shove it when they came to get her
said
Listen to me now, while you still can.
The original sin was rape and god has chosen Adam.
From here we begin.
This wound unhealed between man and woman
draws out the world.
I am the first woman.
And the last.
My children may be sterile as raisins,
die each evening with the sun, but I continue.
You will see me soon, looking with the eyes of
sweet-faced Eve when Adam breaks another covenant
as easily as teeth break the fruit's skin.
I am always here.
Justice owed and justice withheld.
I see my place in history: the forgotten metaphor
living with the beasts in the desert.
You'll try to erase the sound of my name,
call me Witch.
Queen of Ghosts, Mother of Terror.
Then you come here, wanting assurance
that I will not harm Adam's seed,
will not steal from another woman's cradle.
Go ahead.
Write your names over doorways
if you think it will keep them safe.
Sanvi. Sansanvi, Semangelaf.
The syllables curl and fade,
grow old as children.
And what do you ask of me after
the eight days have set?
I am the Night Hag.
Patient as memory, I wait at the crossroads,
visit your men in the dark,
they have reason to fear.
I bring them a sleep restful as my own.
Go back now.
I'm through talking.
Tell god for me, this fight goes on as long as it must.
Let him make Eve, thinking to undo this treachery.
Let him make laws declaring the mud's mistake.
In every generation there is a woman
who belong to me.

Powerful, isn't it?  That's Lilith.

I wrote a poem to Lilith which you can find here.  I was struggling with the poison of patriarchy and was reading Demetra's book at the time.  It helped to write it, to channel the fury and despair out of myself and onto paper - far less destructive than keeping it in or lashing out.

May ~ the month is so seductive.  The sights, the smells, the sounds - all background music to celebrate sensuality and sexuality, our own and the Earth's.

Which brings me to the haiku I recently wrote about Eve:

Eve's Gift

Don't stop kissing me

she hissed writhing under him.

Serpent taught her well.

And, this which I found over at Medusa's place:

I FOUND YOU GROWING IN MY GARDEN

naked as the dust

sitting among corn-stocks shooting up

like magic bean-stocks

and watermelons bigger than the moon.

I was naked too.

Mint and thyme sprang up

in my cool, dark foot-prints

as I walked toward you.

Tomato vines embraced us

twining up our legs

caressing us with bright red fruit

falling faster than a breath.

Pomegranates and apples showered us

grapes grew in our hair

and when your tongue touched mine,

I knew this was Eden.

—Cynthia Linville, Sacramento

When I was a child, we actually had a Maypole Dance.  I had no idea what it meant at the time and thought it was ridiculous.  Too bad we're not taught the origins of the celebration - I think we'd have a sexually healthier population.  Click here to see some really great pictures of a May Day celebration - click on the "see all 44 pictures" link and then view as the slideshow. You won't be disappointed.  Updated to add:  I just realized after watching that May Pole dance that it is another version of the Spiral Dance that we danced at Samhain!

Ah, May....

'Tis the Season!  May it be a delightfully sensual one for each of you!

Image from Photobucket