A perfect May Day

This poem by Leigh Hunt (1784-1859) tells us that it is almost a duty for us to enjoy all the blossoms and the humming and buzzing of the new life around us in both the city and the countryside.

May, thou month of rosy beauty,
May, when pleasure is a duty,
Month of bees, and month of flowers,
Month of blossom-laden bowers,
Month of little hands with daisies,
Lovers' love and poets' praises,
O thou merry month complete,
May, thy very name is sweet!
May's the blooming hawthorn bough;
May's the month that's laughing now.

This poem by Tennyson (1809-1892) is called The May Queen 

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,
Tomorrow'll 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 of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has woven it's 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 grey,
And I'm to be Queen of the May mother, I'm to be Queen of 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 of the May mother, I'm to be Queen of 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 of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

So you must wake and call me early,call me early, mother dear,
Tomorrow'll be the happiest day of all the glad New Year,
Of all the glad New Year, mother,the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

A yellow rose just coming into bloom

Pink peonies



Notte di Maggio