Helen Hunt Jackson.    

Shakespeare.    

Goldsmith.    

Tennyson.    

	Among the changing months, May stands confessed
	The sweetest, and in fairest colors dressed.

Thomson.    

	When April steps aside for May,
	Like diamonds all the rain-drops glisten;
	Fresh violets open every day:
	To some new bird each hour we listen.

Lucy Larcom.    

	Sweet May hath come to love us,
	Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
	And through the blue heavens above us
	The very clouds move on.

Heine.    

	For thee, sweet month, the groves green liveries wear.
	If not the first, the fairest of the year;
	For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours,
	And Nature’s ready pencil paints the flowers.
	When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun
	The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on.

Dryden.    

	’Tis like the birthday of the world,
	When earth was born in bloom;
	The light is made of many dyes,
	The air is all perfume:
	There’s crimson buds, and white and blue,
	The very rainbow showers
	Have turned to blossoms where they fell,
	And sown the earth with flowers.

Hood.    

	Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger,
	Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
	The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
	The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
	Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire
	Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;
	Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
	Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing,
	Thus we salute thee with our early song,
	And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

Milton.