months

"The month of Ramadan carries enduring moral values: humanity, compassion, mercy."

"(First lady) Jill and I extend our best wishes to Muslim communities here in the US and around the world on the beginning of the blessed month of Ramadan. Communities come together to practice forgiveness and resilience, to show compassion and generosity of spirit to those in need, of giving and to celebrate the many blessings of life with loved ones."

"Tomorrow (2 April 2022), Muslims in Canada and around the world will mark the start of Ramadan. One of the five pillars of Islam, this month-long spiritual journey is a time of fasting, charity and prayer. At the end of each day, families and friends will traditionally gather to enjoy iftar – the meal that breaks their fast at sunset. Ramadan is a special time to show gratitude for the many blessings we share, and reflect on values of peace, compassion and generosity. These same values have helped us all through challenging times these past two years, and will continue to help us as we recover from the pandemic and look ahead with optimism and hope. Ramadan is also an opportunity to recognize the many contributions Muslim Canadians have made and continue to make to our country. Every day, they help build a better Canada by giving back to those less fortunate with zakat contributions, by volunteering to serve important causes, and through their consistent acts of kindness for their communities and neighbors."

"Loud is the summer's busy song The smallest breeze can find a tongue, While insects of each tiny size Grow teasing with their melodies, Till noon burns with its blistering breath Around, and day lies still as death."

"The glowing Ruby should adorn Those who in warm July are born, Then will they be exempt and free From love's doubt and anxiety."

"Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots and gillyflowers."

"In July the Sun is hot. Is it shining? No, it's not!"

"The linden, in the fervors of July, Hums with a louder concert. When the wind Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime, As when some master-hand exulting sweeps The keys of some great organ, ye give forth The music of the woodland depths, a hymn Of gladness and of thanks."

"The Summer looks out from her brazen tower, Through the flashing bars of July."

"If the first of July be rainy weather, It will rain, more of less, for four weeks together."

"Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the Moon. July 1969 AD. We came in peace for all mankind."

"The English winter — ending in July, To recommence in August."

"Many public-school children seem to know only two dates: 1492 and 4th of July; and as a rule they don't know what happened on either occasion."

"We go in withering July To ply the hard incessant hoe; Panting beneath the brazen sky We sweat and grumble, but we go."

"Answer July — Where is the Bee — Where is the Blush — Where is the Hay? Ah, said July — Where is the Seed — Where is the Bud — Where is the May — Answer Thee — Me—"

"The flames kindled on the 4th of July 1776, have spread over too much of the globe to be extinguished by the feeble engines of despotism; on the contrary, they will consume these engines and all who work them."

"A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay. A swarm of bees in June is worth a silver spoon. A swarm of bees in July is not worth a fly."

"Make me over, Mother April, When the sap begins to stir! When thy flowery hand delivers All the mountain-prisoned rivers, And thy great heart beats and quivers, To revive the days that were."

"Now the noisy winds are still; April's coming up the hill! All the spring is in her train, Led by shining ranks of rain; Pit, pat, patter, clatter, Sudden sun and clatter patter! * * * * * All things ready with a will, April's coming up the hill!"

"For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,— Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way."

"April, April, Laugh thy girlish laughter; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears! April, that mine ears Like a lover greetest, If I tell thee, sweetest, All my hopes and fears, April, April, Laugh thy golden laughter, But, the moment after, Weep thy golden tears!"

"Will you not come home, brother? you have been long away, It's April, and blossom time, and white is the spray; And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain, -­ Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?"

"By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world."

"I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain: I have seen the lady April bringing the daffodils, Bringing the springing grass and the soft warm April rain."

"Praise the spells and bless the charms, I found April in my arms. April golden, April cloudy, Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy; April soft in flowered languor, April cold with sudden anger, Ever changing, ever true— I love April, I love you."

"If April showers Should come your way, They bring the flowers That bloom in May."

"Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms 'neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away."

"Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, Apple-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content."

"The April winds are magical, And thrill our tuneful frames; The garden-walks are passional To bachelors and dames."

"Oh, the lovely fickleness of an April day!"

"When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky."

"The children with the streamlets sing, When April stops at last her weeping; And every happy growing thing Laughs like a babe just roused from sleeping."

"Again the blackbirds sing; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers."

"Spongy April."

"When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in everything."

"Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May"

"A gush of bird-song, a patter of dew, A cloud, and a rainbow's warning, Suddenly sunshine and perfect blue— An April day in the morning."

"Sweet April showers Do bring May flowers."

"The first of April, some do say Is set apart for All Fools' Day; But why the people call it so, Nor I, nor they themselves, do know."

"Sweet April-time—O cruel April-time! Year after year returning, with a brow Of promise, and red lips with longing paled, And backward-hidden hands that clutch the joys Of vanished springs, like flowers."

"The lyric sound of laughter Fills all the April hills, The joy-song of the crocus, The mirth of daffodils."

"I love the season well When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell The coming on of storms."

"Oh to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England - now!"

"Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, Life's golden fruit is shed."

"When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads."

"Of all the months that fill the year Give April's month to me, For earth and sky are then so filled With sweet variety !"

"Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, And smale fowles maken melodye, That slepen al the night with open yë, (So priketh hem nature in hir corages): Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages (And palmers for to seken straunge strondes) To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes; And specially, from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The holy blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke."

"April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers."

"It was the third of September: That day, I'll always remember. Yes I will, because that was the day that my daddy died."

"Do you remember, the 21st night of September? Love was changing the minds of pretenders, while chasing the clouds away."