Hello & Welcome May

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

In the name of ALLAH, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

Hello & Welcome May

May is the fifth month of the year in the Julian and Gregorian calendars. May (in Latin, Maius) was named for the Greek goddess Maia, who oversaw the growth of plants and who was identified with the Roman era goddess of fertility, Bona Dea and whose festival was held in May. Alternatively, the Roman poet Ovid provides a second etymology, in which he says that the month of May is named after the Latin word "maiores" meaning for "elders." 

As we bid farewell to the lingering chill of April (in Europe, Canada and China) and budding flourishing spring in Asia (particularly in Indian Sub Continent), the month of May brings forth a sense of renewal and warmth. With nature in full bloom and the promise of sun-kissed days, it’s only fitting to usher in this vibrant month with hopes of profound aspirations and inspirations. “May, is a month that whispers promises of sunshine and dreams fulfilled". Lets say Hello, and welcome to the magic brought to us by the month of May.

May is the third of seven months to have a length of 31 days. May is a month of spring in the Northern Hemisphere and autumn in the Southern Hemisphere. May in the Southern Hemisphere is the seasonal equivalent of November in the Northern Hemisphere and vice versa. “May had now set in, but up here among the hills, she was May by curtesy only; or if she was May, she would never be might. She was, indeed, only April with her showers and sunshine, her tearful, childish laughter, and again the frown, and the despair irremediable.” – George MacDonald, Sir Gibbie

“Mornings in May, echoed with the call of cuckoos, sunlight glowed through fresh green canopies of trees.” ― Meeta Ahluwalia

May’s full Moon is called the Flower Moon. The May birth flowers are the Lily of the Valley and the Crataegus monogyna. Both are native throughout the cool temperate Northern Hemisphere in Asia and Europe. “May, a month of miracles and blooming dreams. Let’s embrace the magic of our days.”

“The month of May is the pleasant time; its face is beautiful; the blackbird sings his full song, the living wood is his holding, the cuckoos are singing and ever singing; there is a welcome before the brightness of the summer.” ― Lady Gregory

“Along with the greening of May came the rain. Then the clouds disappeared and a soft pale lightness fell over the city, as if Kyoto had broken free of its tethers and lifted up toward the sun. The mornings were as dewy and verdant as a glass of iced green tea. The nights folded into pencil-gray darkness fragrant with white flowers. And everyone’s mood seemed buoyant, happy, and carefree.” – Victoria Abbott Riccardi

 “In May, anything seemed possible. If only I could learn to harness time itself. To make every month like May! Or, perhaps, to live backward in time, so that whenever the end of the month arrived, I could turn May right around and live it all over again.” ― T.A. Barron.

"The world's favorite season is the spring. 

All things seem possible in May."

~ Edwin Way Teale

“May! queen of blossoms,

And fulfilling flowers,

With what pretty music

Shall we charm the hours?” 

~ Edward Thurlow

If I could stay up late no doubt

I'd catch the buds just bursting out;

And up from every hidden root

Would jump a tiny slender shoot;

I wonder how seeds learn the way,

They always know the very day—

The pretty, happy first of May;

If I could stay up then, no doubt

I'd catch the buds just bursting out.

Sweet month of May, the loveliest of the year!

When all the world, arrayed in garb of green,

Smiles like a comely girl; when far and near,

On hill-top and in valley, there is seen

In all its grandeur the handiwork of God:

The leafy trees, the bursting buds, the sod

Up-sprouting with blue violets atween

The blades of springing grass; in modest mien

Anemones hold up their heads and nod

To stirring winds, and mark the place where trod

Erstwhile the foot of April wet and gray.

O hail, and hail again, sweet month of May!

May! queen of blossoms,

And fulfilling flowers,

With what pretty music

Shall we charm the hours?

Wilt thou have pipe and reed,

Blown in the open mead?

Or to the lute give heed

In the green bowers?

Thou hast no need of us,

Or pipe or wire;

Thou hast the golden bee

Ripened with fire;

And many thousand more

Songsters, that thee adore,

Filling earth's grassy floor

With new desire.

Thou hast thy mighty herds,

Tame and free-livers;

Doubt not, thy music too

In the deep rivers;

And the whole plumy flight

Warbling the day and night—

Up at the gates of light,

See, the lark quivers!

In somer when the shawes be sheyne,

And leves be large and long,

Hit is full merry in feyre foreste

To here the foulys song.

To se the dere draw to the dale

And leve the hilles hee,

And shadow him in the leves grene

Under the green-wode tree.

Hit befell on Whitsontide

Early in a May mornyng,

The Soone up faire can shyne,

And the briddis mery can syng.

'This is a mery mornyng,' said Litulle Johne,

'Be Hym that dyed on tre;

A more mery man than I am one

Lyves not in Christiante.

'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,'

Litulle Johne can say,

'And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme

In a mornynge of May.'

Good morning lords and ladies, it is the first day of May,

We hope you'll view our garland, it is so bright and gay,

For it is the first of May, oh it is the first of May,

Remember lords and ladies, it is the first of May.

We gathered them this morning all in the early dew,

And now we bring their beauty and fragrance all for you,

For it is the first of May, oh it is the first of May,

Remember lords and ladies, it is the first of May.

The cuckoo comes in April, it sings its song in May,

In June it changes tune, in July it flies away,

For it is the first of May, oh it is the first of May,

Remember lords and ladies, it is the first of May.

And now you've seen our garland we must be on our way,

So remember lords and ladies, it is the first of May,

For it is the first of May, oh it is the first of May,

Remember lords and ladies, it is the first of May.

May is here again

Bringing a fluttering feeling within

The cicadas awaken

After a brief rainfall

The red phoenix petals shyly fall

Next to the familiar white dress

The bicycle basket feels heavy

As the school bell rings...

The breeze blows, vast and free

The sunshine suddenly turns golden bright

April passed in a rush

Stirring up a corner of the sky

Here I send a fleeting moment

A memory from days gone by

The scent of love gently lingers

On the lips of someone sweet.

The sunshine bathes in clouds of many hues

And morning's feet are gemmed with early dews,

Warm daffodils about the garden beds

Peep through their pale slim leaves their golden heads,

Sweet earthly nuns of Spring; the gosling broods

In coats of sunny green about the road

Waddle in extasy; and in rich moods

The old hen leads her flickering chicks abroad,

Oft scuttling 'neath her wings to see the kite

Hang wavering o'er them in the spring's blue light.

The sparrows round their new nests chirp with glee

And sweet the robin Spring's young luxury shares

Tootling its song in feathery gooseberry tree

While watching worms the gardener's spade unbares.

Oh! gladly do we welcome thee,

Fair pleasant month of May;

Month which we’ve eager longed to see,

Through many a wintry day:

And now with countless budding flowers,

With sunshine bright and clear—

To gild the quickly fleeting hours—

At length, sweet month, thou’rt here!

But, yet, we do not welcome thee

Because thy genial breath

Hath power our sleeping land to free

From winter’s clasp of death;

Nor yet because fair flowers are springing

Beneath thy genial ray;

And thousand happy birds are singing

All welcome to thee, May!

No, higher, nobler cause have we

These bright days to rejoice—

’Twas God ordained that thou should’st be

The loved month of our choice:

It is because thou hast been given

To honor her alone,

The ever gentle Queen of Heaven—

The mother of God’s son.

The blossoms that we joyous cull

By bank or silver stream;

The fragrant hawthorn boughs we pull,

Most sacred too, we deem:

For not amid our tresses we

Their op’ning buds will twine,

But garlands fair we’ll weave with care

For Mary’s lowly shrine.

And when the twilight shades descend

On earth, so hushed and still,

And the lone night bird’s soft notes blend

With breeze from glade and hill,

We seek her shrine with loving heart,

And, humbly kneeling there,

We linger long, loth to depart

From that sweet place of prayer!

Oh! who can tell with what gifts rare

Our Mother will repay

Their love who honor thus with care

Her own sweet month of May!

A grace for every flower they’ve brought

Or ’Ave, they have said;

And ev’ry pious, holy thought

Shall be by her repaid!