Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, May 4th, 1895 (Illustrated)

Open the windows, salute the day;
Welcome, welcome the First of May.
Everything's changed, or ought to be,
Buds are bursting on hedge and tree.
Sweet winds breathe from the West or South
Soft as a kiss from a maiden's mouth.
Everything speaks of warmth and love,
Bright is the sun in the blue above.
Out in the woods, I know. I know,
Fur and feather are all aglow.
Downy rabbits with jewel eyes
Dart about in a wild surprise.
Yellow-billed blackbird, speckled thrush,
Pour their notes in a tuneful gush.
And all the neat little boys and girls,
With clean fresh faces and hair in curls,
Sing in a chorus, "Hurray, hurray!
April's gone, it's the First of May!"
* * * *
That's how I dreamt my May-day dream;
But things are not what they ought to seem.
For the wind—why, bless me, the wind is East,
And the birds don't warble or chirp the least.
The whole of the sky is wrapped in gloom.
And fires are lighting in every room.
And I shiver and sneeze and spend my day
In a winter-suit on the First of May.