Abingdon Borough Council named Wordsworth Road in about 1971. Wordworth wrote a number of poems about May Day. Here is the first verse of one entitled “To May.”

Though many suns have risen and set
Since thou, blithe May, wert born,
And Bards, who hailed thee, may forget
Thy gifts, thy beauty scorn;
There are who to a birthday strain
Confine not harp and voice,
But evermore throughout thy reign
Are grateful and rejoice…

And so, some “rejoice” pictures taken, not far away, by the River Ock this May morning. The morning began dull and rainy, but by about 8:30 there was glorious sunshine:

This Robin often comes very close. Perhaps it is a bit too trusting.

This magnificent chestnut tree is next to the Ladygrove Meadow playpark, and beside the chestnut a blackthorn is in blossom.

Along the River Ock a Hawthorn bush has no blossoms yet. The Hawthorn is also known as the May because it traditionally blossomed from about May Day. That was before they rejigged the calendar.

And finally just to show that despite being May Day, bad things happen. This duck is being half strangled by the plastic holder from a six-pack. Some little children made sure their mum phoned the RSPCA.

The ninth verse of Wordsworth’s poem “To May” does say:

And what if thou, sweet May, hast known
Mishap by worm and blight;
If expectations newly blown
Have perished in thy sight;
If loves and joys, while up they sprung,
Were caught as in a snare;
Such is the lot of all the young,
However bright and fair.