MAY
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As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made.—RICHARD BARNFIELD, Address to the Nightingales
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Which May had painted with his softe showers
This garden full of leaves and of flowers.—CHAUCER, Canterbury Tales
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Hard, is his herte that loveth nought in May.—CHAUCER, The Romaunt of the Rose
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What potent blood hath modest May!—EMERSON, May-Day
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There was no month but May.—GEORGE HERBERT, Affliction
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Oh! that we two were Maying.—CHARLES KINGSLEY, The Saint's Tragedy
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The hawthorne-scented dusks of May.—DON MARQUIS, An Open Fire
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As tall as a May-pole.—Proverb
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Be sure of hay till the end of May.—Proverb
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A May flood never did good.—Proverb
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No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May.—SHAKESPEARE, A Midsummer-Night's Dream
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When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.—BAYARD TAYLOR, The Lost May
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God riper the wines and corn, I say,
And wenches for the marriage-day,
And boys to teach love's comely play.
By Goddes fay, by Goddes fay!
It is the month, the jolly month,
It is the jolly month of May.—FRANCIS THOMPSON, A May Burden
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