Mine is the month of roses; yes,
and mine is the month of marriages !
All pleasant sights and scents,
The fragrance of the blossoming vine,
The foilage of the valleys and 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.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow