May 1

And he shall be like a tree planted by the streams of water, That bringeth forth its fruit in its season, Whose leaf also doth not wither; And whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. — Ps 1:3

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in the embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;
And mid-May’s wildest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
— John Keats.

Such a starved bank of moss
Till that May morn,
Blue ran the flash across:
Violets were born.
— Robert Browning.

If you wish to succeed in life, make perseverance your bosom friend, experience your wise counselor, caution your elder brother, and hope your guardian genius.
— Joseph Addison.

He who plants a tree, he plants love;
Tents of coolness spreading out above
Wayfarers, he may not live to see.
Gifts that grow are best;
Hands that bless are blest;
Plant-life does the rest!
Heaven and earth help him who plants a tree,
And his work his own reward shall be.
— Lucy Larcom.

Prayer

My Creator, give me joyful eyes for joyful nature. May I be alive to the gentle influences of a May day which bring new experiences to all who may receive them: and may I serve thee by unfolding to others the love of truth, the love of good, and the love of beauty. Amen.