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— Denis Florence MacCarthy"Ah! my heart is weary waiting, Waiting for the May: Waiting for the pleasant rambles Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles, Where the woodbine alternating, Scent the dewy way; Ah! my heart is weary, waiting, Waiting for the May."
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Sweet May hath come to love us, Flowers, trees, their blossoms don; And through the blue heavens above us The very clouds move on.
— Heinrich Heine
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Hoeing in the garden on a bright, soft May day, when you are not obligated to, is nearly equal to the delight of going trouting.
— Charles Dudley Warner
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