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MAY. Hark! The sea-faring wild-fowl loud proclaim
My coming, and the swarming of the bees. These are my heralds, and behold! my name Is written in blossoms on the hawthorn
trees. I tell the mariner when to sail the seas;
I waft o'er all the land from far away The breath and bloom of the Hesperides,
My birthplace. I am Maia. I am May.
MARCH. I Martius am! Once first, and now the third !
To lead the Year was my appointed place; A mortal dispossessed me by a word,
And set there Janus with the double face. Hence I make war on all the human race;
I shake the cities with my hurricanes;
To welcome the procession of the flowers. With their gay banners, and the birds that
sing Their song
of songs from their aerial towers, I soften with my sunshine and my showers The heart of earth; with thoughts of love
I glide Into the hearts of men; and with the Hours
Upon the Bull with wreathèd horns I ride.
JUNE. Mine is the Month of Roses; yes, and mine
The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming
vine, The foliage of the valleys and the heights. Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights;
The mower's scythe makes music to my ear: I am the mother of all dear delights;
I am the fairest daughter of the year.