O Month when they who love must love and wed! <br />Were one to go to worlds where May is naught, <br />And seek to tell the memories he had brought <br />From earth of thee, what were most fitly said? <br />I know not if the rosy showers shed <br />From apple-boughs, or if the soft green wrought <br />In fields, or if the robin's call be fraught <br />The most with thy delight. Perhaps they read <br />Thee best who in the ancient time did say <br />Thou wert the sacred month unto the old: <br />No blossom blooms upon thy brightest day <br />So subtly sweet as memories which unfold <br />In aged hearts which in thy sunshine lie, <br />To sun themselves once more before they die.<br /><br />Helen Hunt Jackson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-calendar-of-sonnets-may/
